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godmadeaterribleerror · 4 months ago

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Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: As we begin our first 5-digit word count chapter (I can’t be stopped, someone take away my keyboard) and I find a stride of about two chapters per week, I want to say that: A) I fully intend on finishing this story. I plotted out the whole thing before I started, have made a few adjustments given the pacing I’ve done so far, and with how it’s broken down right now we’ll reach the end in 2-3 months. B) Thank y’all from the bottom of my heart for reading! If you have theories or thoughts or feedback please don’t hesitate to share them! I love hearing what you think of the plot and the characters, and every interaction means the world to me. Whether you’re only reading or leaving comments as well, thank you so damn much. I’ll see you next chapter (it’s gonna be a doozy) <3

Chapter Title from Bells in Santa Fe by Halsey.

Word Count: 11.2k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You throw a punch, and Phase One: Operation Quick and Bald goes. Not well, but it goes. Contains usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, fluff, angst

Read on A03!

Chapter 5 - Chapter 7

Taglist: @lordofthunderthr @kritara

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Ben dodged the third punch in a row, grinning widely right up until the fourth one landed on his face.

“Ha!” She yelled, drawing back to shake her first out. “Take that, you weirdly fast man.”

Ben rolled his eyes, rubbing his face lightly. It hadn’t hurt—he’d barely even felt it—but She was being real fucking smug for someone who’d only just landed a hit after a damn week of attempting to do so.

“Yeah, sure, Sunshine. Keep it the fuck up, and at this rate it’ll only take you another couple thousand years to surpass Muhammad Ali.”

She raised her brows at Ben, pausing with a tilt of her head. ��You were a fan of Muhammad Ali?”

He nodded, giving her a scrunched look of annoyance. “I’m a fucking American, and there ain’t nothing more red-blooded American than punching commies like that son of a bitch did.”

“What?”

“When he fought the Russian, and won. That’s fucking American.”

“Ben, you’re thinking of the plot of Rocky IV.”

“No, Muhammad Ali fought that Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass.”

“No, Sylvester Stallone fought the Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass. In a movie.” She laughed to herself. “I’m shocked you even saw Rocky IV, let alone were so impacted by it to let the plot override your knowledge of a real life person.”

“Shut up,” Ben grunted, moving his hands back to a defensive stance. She fucking always won these stupid arguments, and Ben couldn’t actually prove it, but he knew She was changing the fucking internet she loved so damn much to match her claims. “Go again.”

“Someone missed nap time.” She muttered under her breath, even though she knew Ben could fucking hear her, but put her fists up anyways. “Can this be the last one? I’m hungry.”

Instead of answering, Ben just launched himself at her, and She jumped to the side with a yelp.

“What the fuck, Ben!”

He turned and threw another punch, feeling pleased at the smooth way she ducked away and met it with a punch of her own. Her face had lost the pissy shock, laser-sharp concentration replacing it. Her eyes were narrowed, darting across Ben as he moved, her bobbing and weaving wasn’t entirely shit, and her heart was controlled with her breathing. She landed her second punch, this one on his shoulder, and Ben laughed, delivering one of his own.

“Christ, Sunshine, you’re fucking weak.” He laughed, examining Her carefully for any loss of control.

“I’ll kill you with my bare hands, Bitch.” She growled, lunging forward and grunting in frustration as Ben dodged with ease.

“That’s my line.” He taunted. “And you couldn’t even kill a man with an assault rifle if he was a fucking foot away from you.”

“Blow me.”

“I’ve been fucking trying- Fuck!” She landed her third punch, and it burned. Ben reached to touch where she’d hit and felt the skin mending across his jaw.

She was grinning in a wide, toothy, satisfied way. “Suck on that, cunt.”

“Bitch,” he muttered, looking down at his hand to see it raw and red from the contact with his face, with some of his fucking hair stuck to it.

“Did you burn off my fucking beard!” His head shot up to see a half-sheepish, half-amused look on her face, lips curled and eyes wide.

“Oops.”

He yelled her name, and she had the fucking nerve to giggle. “We said no fucking powers!”

“I forgot.” She said lamely, her face less and less apologetic by the second, giggling again as she offered some of the most insincere comfort Ben had ever heard. “It’s not even that noticeable! You look just as good as before!”

His anger faded, and he gave Her a cocky smirk, raising his brows. “You think I look good, Sunshine?”

“I’m being nice. Don’t ruin it.” She muttered, her face adorably flushed, and Ben didn’t miss the skip of her heart.

“Whatever keeps you up at night.”

“That’s not the phrase.”

He winked. “I know.”

She scoffed and turned away, but not before Ben could see the slight smile on her lips. “I’m going to shower, I’ll meet you in the living room in fifteen. If you’re not there, with food, I’m eating the TV.”

Ben frowned, calling after Her figure moving down the hall. “Has the TV been edible this whole fucking time and you didn’t fucking tell me?!”

Her laughter echoed back down the hall. "You're real fucking gullible, grampa!"

“You know I can’t fucking tell when you’re joking about that shit, you bitch!”

“Fourteen minutes, cunt!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to make food in fourteen minutes?!”

“You’re a big boy, you’ll figure it out!”

Grumbling a string of cusses Ben hoped She could fucking feel, Ben grabbed a cup of instant noodles and threw them in the microwave, wondering if She would notice if he spit in hers. After pulling them out, grabbing two spoons from the counter that he almost immediately bent, spilling one of the cups as he noticed the damaged utensils, spilling the other when he noticed the first spill, and having to start the whole damned fucking thing over, Ben made his way to drop on the couch next to where She sat, wet hair clinging to her pretty face.

“Heard a lot of swearing, Pretty Boy, everything ok?”

He grunted, shoving Her noodles against her chest and letting go, not giving a fuck if she had a grip on them. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Just asking a question,” he could hear her shit-eating grin. “Thought it was a free country. Thought a patriot like you would appreciate me exercising my first amendment right.”

“That protects you from the government, not me.” Ben parroted back the words She had yelled at him after he’d made the apparently fucking fatal mistake of saying “first amendment right” in her presence.

She chuckled, her voice teasing. “Didn’t know you were capable of retaining information about something other than yourself.”

“Well, your tits were looking great while you were bitching. It helped.” He grabbed the remote, raising it to the TV. “I made food. I’m picking what we watch.”

“If you pick Game of Thrones so you can watch the sex scenes again, I’m figuring out a way to kill myself and doing it on your bed.”

“Whatever gets you in my bed, Sunshine.” He winked. “And I’m invested in the fucking plot, it’s not just the sex scenes.”

“It’s mostly the sex scenes.” She said, not even flinching at his flirtation. “Just go watch porn. See how fast you can break the fleshlights. If you do all three in ten minutes, Butcher owes me twenty dollars.”

Ben scowled, not enjoying that She’d apparently been making fucking bets with Butcher about his masturbation. “I can last longer than ten fucking minutes, I’m not a fucking pussy.”

“Prove it.”

He grinned widely at Her as her face flushed adorably, her own phrasing catching up with her head. “I’d be honored, Sunshine.”

“You’re like a fucking rabbit in heat.” She muttered. “And if you do last longer than ten, Hughie gets the money, so keep that in mind when you’re jerking it to dragon boobs after I go to bed.”

“The dragons don’t have any fucking boobs, dumbass, the fucking hot lady queens do.” Ben said smugly, ignoring her eye roll. “And I would ‘jerk it’ in the privacy of my room, but someone won’t give me a fucking phone.”

“Yeah, the CIA. I’d actually back you up with Mallory, Pretty Boy. I think giving you a phone would be really entertaining.”

“I don’t need your fucking help.” He snapped, and she laughed.

“Can’t rely on just a handsome face to convince her that you somehow deserve the internet.”

“Handsome face?” He grinned at her, and only the slight stutter of her heart told Ben she heard him.

She made a mock face of thought. “Maybe if we suggested parental controls…”

“I’ll kill you, bitch.”

“I’ll make you the most useless and sad eunuch to ever grace this sorry planet, cunt.”

Ben glared at Her, and she reached over his arm to press play on the remote.

Most of the days since the failed Sister Sage mission had been like this. She and Ben got up, trained, ate, trained more, and then watched TV with dinner until She retreated to her room and Ben fought sleep for the rest of the night, alone. Neither of them mentioned how he’d saved her, or how She had started a habit of slapping Ben awake—he was pretty fucking certain that at this point she had figured out another way to break through the nightmares but was purposely choosing to fucking hit him instead—before she’d sit next to him for an hour or two after. Ben liked this unspoken arrangement, and liked even more how She had silently agreed to it. Just because he didn’t actively hate Her right now didn’t mean he was about become a sniveling pussy mess about feelings. Even if the lack of active hatred had morphed into something pulsing in his chest that he didn’t understand, and didn't fucking want to. Making Her instant noodles and not killing her when she lied to him for fun or called him “Pretty Boy” was as far as Ben would bend.

It had been mostly radio silence from the Boys, though Butcher and Cocksucker had visited two days after they’d dropped Her and Ben back at the safe house, as Cocksucker had managed to break his arm. There had been a long, incredibly boring and poorly told story as to how the injury had occurred, involving a supe, Nikola Tesla and something called a Cybertruck, but Ben had pretty much tuned out the entire fucking conversation once he realized they weren’t here for him at all. The only thing that had kept him from retreating to his room for the duration of the visit was the small falter in Her heart when she touched Cocksucker, her jaw clenched as Ben and Butcher watched Cocksucker’s arm heal into place in a fucking disgusting manner.

When She’d let go, she’d given Ben a weird fucking look with tight lips and sad eyes that he'd only seen before on Cocksucker. It had passed quickly, her face returning to apathetic and bored, her eyes regaining the sharp amusement they usually held, but fuck it had confused him. She and Butcher had started talking about missions and planning and other mind-numbing shit, Cocksucker shaking out his arm as if he didn’t trust that it was healed, and Ben had needed to piss and gone to do just that. Before he’d left, he’d caught Her a look of where the hell are you’d going, he’d grinned back with a wink of why, you want to join me?, and she’d rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Butcher. When he’d returned, Butcher and Cocksucker had left and She was glaring at him, arms across her chest.

“Are you an idiot, or just a dick?” She’d snapped.

He’d frowned at Her, trying to figure out what had made her all fucking bitchy. As far as Ben was concerned, he’d been fucking amazing, only calling Butcher a pussy twice and managing to refrain from talking to Cocksucker at all. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Butcher told me we’re moving on operation Quick and Bald soon. He told me you knew. Why didn’t you fucking tell me?!”

“Oh,” Ben had rolled his eyes. “I forgot.”

“You forgot?”

He’d shrugged. “Well, you fucking know now, so get over it. And what kind of fucking shit codename is Quick and Bald?”

“Fuck you, it’s an accurate and descriptive name.”

“How the fuck could that be ‘accurate and descriptive’?”

“Because two key factors of this phase of my plan are the quick and the bald.”

“Your plan?”

“Yeah, my fucking plan. That I fucking deserved to know the status of.” She’d scowled. “Butcher says it’s almost ready. He’ll get us in two days once it’s in place.”

That had been five days ago. Starlight and Cocksucker had dropped in after two days, full of apologies and updates that Ben didn’t give a fuck about, and when he’d asked Her for more information about the plan, she’d told him to “suck her dick and shove his questions up his ass until they reached his brain.”

So Ben still had no fucking clue what Quick and Bald was about.

Aside from Her lingering anger at him for apparently having the fucking nerve to ask questions about the jobs he had to do—an opinion he had made the mistake of voicing, leading the unwelcome lesson on the first amendment—She was being impossibly easy to talk to, and Ben was getting dangerously close to not only enjoying her company, but finding her comfortable. Part of him was hoping she’d say something very, very soon that would allow him to grip onto hatred, or at least indifference, for the rest of his time in this stupid fucking situation.

Instead, in a way that made Ben think God himself was out to fucking get him, he’d started to tell her things. Fucking voluntarily.

One of those nights where sleep had gripped his head and pulled him under, struggling and roaring, he’d woken up once more from only the force and sting of her hand across his face. She’d sat next to him again, and he’d asked her more questions about before, all of which she’d answered with a faraway, insufferably sad look in her eyes.

“How many siblings did you fucking have again?” He’d pressed once.

“Four,” She’d responded, a wistful smile on her face. “Two brothers, two sisters. All younger.”

“Your parents had four more kids after you? What, were you that fucking annoying they needed to try again four fucking times?”

“No, I was just so adorable they needed to try and recreate my perfection. Once they realized that was impossible, they gave up.” She’d smirked, and Ben hated that somehow he didn’t doubt her words. “Well,” she’d mused to herself. “That and they fell violently out of love with each other.”

“Violently?” He’d made a face, and she’d nodded solemnly.

“I shielded my siblings from a lot of flying plates.”

Ben found another thing to hate. Her parents, and how fucking sad she looked. “You miss them?”

“My parents?” She’d snorted. “I miss my dad. I hope my mom gets her head popped.”

He’d coughed to cover a laugh. “No, you fucking smartass. Your siblings.”

Her answer was quick and soft. “Every fucking day.”

Ben had grunted, watching the distance return to her face, and before he could stop himself, he was talking. “I didn’t have any siblings.”

Before he could curse himself out and try to distract Her with something else, she had been looking back at him with wide, focused eyes. “Do you wish you did?”

“I never thought about it,” he’d muttered. “My father was such a fucking dick I’m surprised he even got my mother to marry him, let alone fucking have one kid. I think he hated me enough to never fucking risk it again.”

“Risk it?” She’d kept her voice impossibly gentle as she’d asked, and it made his skin crawl all weird.

“I was the biggest fucking regret of his life. If he could go back and stop me from happening in the first place, make my mother flush me out, he wouldn’t have fucking hesitated.”

She’d paused, and a very fucking stupid part of Ben had thought she was going to let the conversation go. Of course, he should’ve fucking known by now that She damn well wouldn’t.

“What was your mom like?”

He hadn’t fucking expected that, and it had shocked him enough to answer. “Kind. Too kind for my father, he saw it as fucking weakness and told her all the fucking time. But she was so fucking kind.” He took a heavy breath. “She was full of love, and I have no fucking clue how. It was fucking stupid, all her love, even for my piece of shit father. He’d yell at her and threaten her and mock her, but she still fucking loved him. She fucking loved everything.”

Her voice was still gentle from beside him. “Like what?”

“Animals. Cats specifically. My father had all these fucking hunting dogs he loved more than anything, certainly more than me, and the only good thing he ever fucking did was trade one to get her a cat. It was massive, fluffy and gray, and it was a fucking asshole to everyone but her. It ate like a fucking elephant, shed like a whore in summer, but she loved it so fucking much.” At this point Ben had really wished he would shut the fuck up, but he couldn’t, and he was going to have to figure out a way to blame Her for that later. “She loved art. Painting. She tried to get me to love it too, even though I could barely draw a fucking worm. But I’d try, and she’d frame all my stupid, shitty drawings and hang them around the house until my father saw them and threw them in the trash. She loved music but couldn’t carry a tune if her life fucking depended on it. They’d go to the opera because my father would donate a ton for the publicity, and she’d come back all damn giddy. I’d wait up, just because she was fucking contagious when she was that happy. Even my father felt it, enough to just go straight to bed and not kick my ass for still being awake. She was fucking smart, too. Real fucking smart. My father would joke he wished she was a man, because then her brain would be useful. She would’ve fucking jumped for joy if she saw the world now. Met a fucking woman doctor.” He paused, looking back down at Her beside him. She hadn’t looked away from him, and there was none of the pity he’d expected to see on her face. It was just open, listening intently to his words with no malice or trickery behind her eyes.

“She sounds amazing.” She’d said softly, a small smile he didn’t understand on her face. “And your dad sounds like a fucking cunt.”

Ben had chuckled in surprise. “Fucking understatement of the damn year, Sunshine. That pussy would’ve tried to pry your degree from your fucking hands.”

“Let him try, I’d burn his fucking face off and laugh while I did it.”

“What were you even going to fucking do with a PhD in archeology?" He’d asked, and she’d huffed a small laugh.

“Anthropology, Pretty Boy. But nice guess.” She corrected. “And I’m honestly not sure. I’d quite literarily only just actually received the degree before everything… changed.” She’d sighed. “I had a few job offers, but mostly in academia and business. What I wanted was to work with nonprofits to help people.”

“Help people?” He’d given her a disbelieving stare. “With a prissy fucking degree?”

“Yeah, dickwad. Help people. I was a cultural anthropologist. I specialized in the evolution of cultures and ways to combat systemic cultural oppression.”

He’d stared at Her blankly. “You’re going to have to take down the fucking fancy talk by seven, Sunshine.”

“I studied how the government and culture is mean to people on purpose, and how to make them stop being mean.” She’d said flatly.

“Oh.” He’d rolled his eyes at the dirty look she was giving him. “Oh, fuck off. It wasn’t that painful to say.”

“Yes, it was.” She’d mumbled, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re not going to argue with me?”

“What’s there to fucking argue about?”

“I just called your beloved country an ‘oppressive system’.” She’d watched him wearily, but her heart remained steady. “Doesn’t it mar your refined American nationalism?”

“Do you fucking want me to be mad?” Ben had asked, raising his brows at her. “I can definitely find it in me, that’s not a fucking issue. But usually when we fight about this shit, you get all bitchy and don’t talk to me for way too fucking long.”

“I mean, no, I don’t want you to get mad…” She’d frowned, examining him with yet another fucking confusing look. “Does it really bother you when I ignore you?”

“No.” He’d snapped quickly. “It’s just annoying, and I don’t like having to fucking deal with it.”

She’d hummed with an amused smile on her face, and the conversation had moved on to something else. Ben had shoved down the way it had been so easy to talk about his mother with her, until it was somewhere in his gut and he didn’t have to think about the way the feeling rolled around inside him.

And he refused to even acknowledge how when She would smile now, he’d have to fight himself to not do the same.

———-

It had been a week since the Sage incident, a week since Ben had saved your life—you'd locked everything about that particular action from what you thought of it to how it made you feel somewhere deep in your chest—and you were starting to lose your mind a little bit. When Annie and Hughie had stopped by with nervous words about delays in your meticulously prepared and incredibly well-detailed plan, you’d been willing to wait another day, maybe two, before executing operation Quick and Bald. Now it had been three days, burgeoning on four, and you were worryingly close to leaving the safe house just to yell at Butcher. Ben could stay here, or follow you and help you beat Butcher up for all you cared. Which was, admittedly, worrying within itself. Especially because the whole point of operation Quick and Bald was to take preventative measures against Ben’s needless brutality.

Over a month ago, right after you’d moved into the safe house and when you had been ready to throttle Ben’s neck every waking moment—an urge that hadn’t entirely waned, but was now undercut with a weirder, stronger urge to be near him without any murderous intent—you’d spent the hours quarantined in your room perfecting your plan to get Ryan Butcher the fuck out of dodge. When they’d come to pick you and Ben up for the whole Neuman test, you’d left it in the van for Butcher to find, and had been waiting since for him to set up the dominoes so you could knock them over.

At this point, you’d be happy with not even “dominos to knock over” and just “one singular domino to throw at someone." You had begun to develop a habit of staring down the hall from the living room, trying to will someone to appear with at least a fucking update. So far this strategy was not working, and had apparently started to garner attention.

Sitting on the couch, the TV white noise in the background and noodles in your hand cold and forgotten, you felt a foreign rush of oddly tight concern run through your body. You frowned, heard your name from next to you, and turned to find that Ben had been poking your arm.

“Are you fucking alive?” He grunted, watching you with a frown.

“Literally? Yes.” You answered with a tight smile. “You have noodles on your face.”

He reached up to feel for them, not looking away from you. “What the fuck do you mean literally? How can you be fucking metaphorically alive?”

“Mind-body problem, Pretty Boy. And it’s not metaphorically, it’s philosophically.” You lean back, grinning.

“You’re a real fucking pretentious bitch sometimes.” He grumbled, still trying to find the food stuck to his beard.

“If you made me a shirt that said that, I’d wear it.”

“I’m not going to fucking make you a shirt, Sunshine. You couldn’t make me learn to fucking sow with a gun to my head.”

“Because the gun wouldn’t affect you at all?” You pointed to your own chin, mirroring where the noodle was caught.

He sneered. “Because I’m not a pussy.” His hand found the stray piece of his dinner, and he pulled it from his jaw.

“Big words from the man who took two tries to make me instant ramen- hey!” A wet noodle hits you in the face.

“Ramen your ungrateful ass didn’t even fucking eat.” Ben gave a pointed look at the abandoned cup in your hands, the food inside having long lost any heat. “Don’t fucking test me, or I’ll actually spit in your food next time.”

“Drama queen,” you muttered, peeking back at the door. “Like you don’t already do that.”

“I fight the urge to be a fucking bitch, unlike certain women.”

You nod absentmindedly. “Butcher.”

Ben snorted behind you, and a smile you hoped he didn’t see crept onto your face.

“Yeah, sure Sunshine.” His attention returned to the TV, and you did your best to not stare down the hall, trying to ignore the hope that the door now shrouded in darkness would open.

A successful effort that made you jump out of your seat when it did just that with an aggressive bang.

Ben was faster than you, practically launching himself over the sofa and bolting down the hall, a dangerous look of alarm the last thing you saw on his face before he was gone from the room.

“Shit, no! It’s me!” You heard a high-pitched shout from the shadows of the entrance. “It’s Hughie!”

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You heard Ben’s growl of a response.

Butcher’s voice drawled from the shadows. “Oi, take a deep fucking breath and put the bloody kid down.”

“Someone fucking answer me first.”

“Put him down, Soldier Boy, before we knock your ancient ass the fuck out.” The impatient, clipped words of MM responded, almost drowned out by Frenchie's shout.

“Can someone turn on the fucking lights? It is as dark as Monsieur Butcher’s heart and asshole!”

“I- I don’t feel good.” Hughie’s voice stuttered.

“Ben!” You flicked on the hallway sconces, illuminating a scene of Ben’s full body weight pressing Hughie to the wall, Butcher and MM trying with practically negative success to pry him off, and Kimiko gripping one of Frenchie’s arms as his other groped around for direction. You let out a very long, very loud sigh. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“It’s fucking late,” he snapped, not letting Hughie go. “They shouldn’t be here so fucking late.”

“This ain’t your real house, Mate.” Butcher grunted, still trying to move Ben. “We can be here whenever we bloody well please.”

Hughie wheezed out your name in a pleading tone. “Your plan is ready. We’re here to- fuck- we’re here to get you.”

That got you moving, crossing to the end of the hall in quick, frantic steps. “It’s ready? Are you sure?” Hughie gave a weak nod, and you rolled your eyes, shoving Ben shoulder. “Put him down, dumbass. He’s not a threat, and honestly, probably the worst one to have gone after. Just, like, strategically.”

Ben glared at you, but let go. He glanced at where MM and Butcher were still grabbing him, and gave them a venomous look that got them both to let go and take hasty steps back. He shot a glowering look of they could’ve fucking waited until the morning in your direction.

You wrinkled your nose at him. No. Shut the fuck up. You turned to Hughie, not even bothering to hide the desperation you felt in your imploring stare. “It’s all ready? All of it? A-Train agreed to help? We’re sure Ashley has the information? We’re sure neither one is going to tell Homelander, and we’re not about to walk into a fucking trap?”

“Yes, yes, yes, kind of, and yes.” Butcher counted off on his fingers as he answered. “But we’ve got to go right fucking now.”

“Kind of?” Anxious energy rushed through you—that still-strange feeling lighting under your skin—and you ignored the weird look Ben shot you as it did. “What do you mean, kind of? If you fucked this up, Butcher, I swear to God-"

“Calm the fuck down, Love.” Butcher snapped. “It’s going to be fine, we’ll explain on the way. But we need to go fucking now if you want this to work.”

You gave a sharp nod, starting to pull on your boot, glancing up with a pause when you heard Hughie say your name behind you.

“Do you, uh, do you want to get dressed first?” His voice was still slightly weak as he recovered from Ben’s force.

You glanced down at your body, and decided that the oversized shirt and cloth shorts would be fine. They were from the CIA spring fire-proof collection, and that was more than enough. “Nope. Let’s fucking move.”

You were halfway to the door when a crash sounded behind you, and you whirled around to see MM firmly blocking Ben’s path, the crash seeming to have been Hughie stumbling into the wall in an attempt to get away from the standoff.

“You’re not coming, Soldier Boy. This is a goddamn delicate operation, and you’re the fucking reason we have to do it in the first place. We can’t afford you throwing a tantrum and screwing us.”

“I’m fucking coming, and it’s not up for fucking debate.”

Off to the side, Frenchie snickered as Kimiko signed how many times do you think he’s said that before?

Ben shot them an annoyed look, his fists clenching. “What’s so fucking funny?”

“Nothing,” Frenchie snickered, and his tone was so remarkably unconvincing that even if you hadn’t understood Kimiko, you wouldn’t have believed him.

Ben grunted and tried to move past MM, again to no avail.

He glared down at the firmly planted man, a familiar violent glint in his eyes. “You better fucking move now, before I make you.”

“Do your fucking worst, we’ll put you right back in the box. You’re not coming with us.”

“MM,” you said firmly, watching Ben's fists clench as the dangerous glint returns to his eyes. “We need to go.”

MM looks back at you, but remains in his place. “Are you fucking serious? You’re siding with him?”

“I’m not siding with him.” You keep your voice level, ignoring Ben’s smug face and grin. “We can’t leave him. The I go where he goes thing unfortunately goes both ways.”

“The safe house will hold him for five hours.” MM pushed, and before you could even shake your head, Ben cut in.=

"No, it won’t.”

You shoot him a look that says you’re being unhelpful, and he just returns it with his own of fuck off, you know you fucking want me there.

“Please, MM. He’ll stay quiet in the background, or I’ll burn his dick off. Right?” You direct your last words at Ben, giving him a pointed agree with me or I’m knocking you out and leaving you here look.

“Yeah, whatever. But I’m not staying in the fucking van like a pussy. And you’d better explain what the fuck is happening on the way, Sunshine.”

“Deal. But first they,” You narrowed your eyes at Butcher. “Have some explaining of their own to do.”

“Don’t lose your bloody mind, Love, it’s all in order.” Butcher said breezily, shoving past you to open the door. He gave a dramatic wave of his arm for you to exit, and with a look of doubt, you did.

The car ride was already poised to be uncomfortable. Butcher’s car was not equipped for seven people, let alone seven people where three were very large men, three were supes, and nobody wanted to have physical contact with two. As such, Butcher drove, MM sat in the front, you found yourself squished against one window with Ben between you and a remarkably uncomfortable Hughie, as Kimiko sat, slightly elevated onto their laps, between Frenchie at the other window, and Hughie. It was overall an unideal situation, made worse as your own frustration was amplified by Ben’s, and by Hughie revealing that it was, in fact, not all in order.

Your phase one, the original operation Quick and Bald had called for Ashley Barrett’s complete cooperation. You’d even painstakingly outlined all the potential ways to flip her—most involving something along the lines of hey, wouldn’t a job that didn’t make you so stressed you rip out all your hair and have to buy a bunch of wigs be nice?—and different ways to keep Homelander from finding out about her betrayal—Spain was lovely this time of year, and had a thriving BDSM community Ashley would love. While MM had managed to take care of your instructions for A-Train, the half of the plan you’d incorrectly anticipated to be more difficult, the Ashley situation was, in Butcher’s words, very fucking delicate, but we’ve adapted and everything will be bloody fine, so trust me and don’t be a fucking cunt about it.

You did not trust him. I didn’t help that you’d asked for any other possible details, and he’d pretended he couldn’t hear you. This suspicion was confirmed when, despite your incredible clarity that you would never step foot there again, Butcher seemed to be driving right to Vought Tower.

Your eyes had been steadily widening, panic starting to run through you the closer and closer you got, and you flinched when you felt Ben’s roughly shoulder nudge your own.

“What’s fucking wrong with you?” He’d asked in a low voice, barely audible over Hughie’s rambling explanation.

“You should listen,” you mutter back, trying to shut out the confusing concern he always seemed to feel at you, how it felt remarkably genuine, but was laced with anger that felt like it was trying to push out of your body. “Hughie’s explaining the plan.”

“Yeah, but all I have to fucking do is stay quiet, and I get to keep my dick. You’re being fucking twitchy and silent, and your heart is beating faster than it has all damn day, so don’t even try to fucking lie and tell me it’s fine.”

“It is fine, I’m fine-“ You paused as his words sank in. “Wait, what do you mean my heart-“

“Alright, here we go.” Butcher cut off both you and Hughie with a clap of his hands. “Everyone bloody out, let’s get this shitshow on the road.”

“Butcher,” you said, looking around to see you’d parked directly across from the tower entrance. “What the fuck are we doing here?”

“We’re meeting them right there.” MM answered for Butcher, pointing out of his window to something you couldn’t see. “It’s almost midnight, and Annie’s been making sure nobody gets inside but us.”

“But why?” You protest, even as MM leaves the car. “This,” you give a wide, general wave that hits Ben in the nose. “Cannot be the only option.”

“Both of them still have their trackers,” Hughie leans forward with an apologetic look as Frenchie and Kimiko exit the car. “This will look like they’re just getting a midnight snack, and hopefully Homelander won’t get suspicious.”

“Hopefully?!” You feel a rush of anger—not yours—and a twist of fear deep within your gut—absolutely yours. “Hopefully fucking Homelander won’t get suspicious?!”

Hughie gave an uncertain nod before very quickly scrambling to get out of the car. You take a long, deep breath, trying to steel yourself. A rush of what was becoming a familiar fuming and brittle concern ran through you. You look at Ben, to find his eyes locked firmly onto yours.

“Sorry about hitting-“

“I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You blink at him, taken aback by the firmness of his voice. “What?”

His hand moved to grip your thigh, his gaze not wavering. “I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You give him a flat look. “Yeah, I heard you the first time. Why are you telling me that?”

His frustration leaked into you. “Because say the word, I’ll steal Butcher’s car, and we’ll fucking leave.”

“What? Are you insane?”

“You look like you’re either going to start fucking crying or burst into flames, and this is a stupid fucking idea.”

“This was my plan.” You snap. “And I’m not stealing Butcher’s car. Why do you even know how to hot-wire a car anyway?”

Ben’s grip tightened. “No, your plan was stupidly well fucking thought out.”

“That’s an oxymoron.” You mutter, and he ignores you.

“And even if they haven’t completely fucking blown the execution, they completely squashed any chance of safety.”

“It’ll be fine,” you say, the words sounding fake even as you say them. “It’s late. He’s probably asleep.”

“What if he’s not?” His concern was starting to move to your throat, and there was something else, something sitting far deeper in your chest, beating and beating against you. Against you.

“Ben.” You place your hand over his. “I’ve worked too hard on this. This is the only way, and it will be fine.” You say the last words firmly and clearly, trying to make them sink into you. “Now take your fucking hand off of me, and get out of the damn car.”

He pulls himself from you, and even as his touch leaves, the concern and beat linger until he’s gone from the car. You drag yourself across the seats and ignore Hughie’s offer of a hand as you duck out of the car and onto the curb. You notice the 24 hour diner MM must have been pointing out almost immediately, half because—aside from an incredibly sketchy looking deli a few doors down—it’s the only building with its lights still on, and half because two very flustered teenagers are sulking away from the entrance, where Annie stands with her arms crossed. She’s already spotted your group, and has angeled her head in a signal to join her.

“You’re late.” She chides as you approach.

“Well, Starlight, I’d apologize, but it was those two fuckheads,” Ben and MM both receive a jabbed thumb over Butcher’s shoulder. “Who decided to draw out the bloody carpool process.”

“I told you not to call me Starlight anymore, Butcher.” Annie snaps, not giving him a chance to respond before she turns to you. “A-Train is, somehow, running behind as well. Hopefully Ashley’s just being resistant to getting food with him, but they’ll be here.”

“Isn’t running that pussy’s whole fucking thing?” Ben muttered, quiet enough for only you to hear. You step as hard as you can on his foot.

“Shut it, Pretty Boy.” You whisper over his grunt of what probably is more emotional pain than physical.

“Bitch.” He hisses back.

“Cunt.” You raise your voice so the others can hear you. “We should go inside, it’s risky to just… stand here.”

With nervous looks around and stuttered agreements, you all make your way into the diner. The lights are flickering, and it’s eerily empty with only a very nervous-looking blonde waitress at the counter. She makes a very big show of asking how many are in your party, leading you to a large, round table, and laying out the menus with shaky hands. Kimiko, Hughie, Annie, and MM try and offer her comforting smiles, though MM’s is strained as he keeps a vigilant glare on Ben. The waitress is staring at Ben herself, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, glacing back as she leaves to get your and Butcher’s coffee, Annie and MM’s tea, Kimiko and Hughie’s milkshakes, and Ben and Frenchie’s orders of “the strongest alcohol you’ve fucking got.” Your personal bet was it was going to just be very old beer.

“Why is she fucking staring at me?” Ben muttered to you, watching the waitress as she walked away. “Did you fuck up my beard that bad?”

“Your beard looks literally the same.” You dismiss. “And it’s because, as far as the public knows, Maeve killed you in a heroic act of self-sacrifice to stop your evil, anti-American attacks. That, or she wants to fuck you.”

“Hm,” he looks back at you, settling down into his seat. “Am I allowed to bring guests into the safe house?”

“No.” You say, a little more curtly than you intended. Seeing his wide, cocky grin, you clairfy. “It’s a breach of security. She would need to pass a CIA vetting and be approved by, like, twenty people. I don’t think she’d do that just to fuck you.”

Ben shrugs, his smirk only growing. “You did.”

“I’m going to cut off your balls and feed them to you-“

“Hey,” MM cuts you off, saying your name in a brisk, hard tone from across the table. “They’re here.”

You snap your head to the door, where A-Train is practically pushing Ashley into the diner.

You hear her voice clearly over the recession pop humming from the speakers. “Why can’t we just go to the fucking deli? They make these amazing meatball subs and supes eat free, so you could order for both of us- oh fuck no.”

“Oh, shit.” MM mutters, jumping to his feet with Butcher and Annie as Ashley notices them, and promptly tries to dash for the exit.

You don’t entirely blame her. You’d probably do the same. You had done the same, an unhelpful voice reminds you.

“I- Am- Not-“ Ashley is trying to get past A-Train, who hasn’t given up trying to herd her further into the diner. “Fuck- this-“

“Ashley, just listen to them, I fucking swear-“

“Why should I trust you?!” Ashley doubles over, out of breath. “You fucking tricked me! Midnight snack my fucking ass- Fuck no!” She raises a crooked finger at Annie, who has stopped in front of her. “Get the fuck away from me, you bitch.”

“Ashley, please listen to A-Train-“

“No! Just leave me the fuck alone! I don’t want to be a part of your weird fucking eye for an eye justice shit-“

“You kind of already are.” MM says as he locks the door behind her. “You work for Vought, your it’s motherfucking CEO. That makes you a part of this, like it or not.”

“Not!” Ashley shouts. “I don’t care what you have to say! Homelander’s going to fucking kill me, oh my god.” She starts to hyperventilate. “If he finds out I was here, he’ll kill you-“ She points a shaky finger at A-Train. “And then make me go on fucking TV to explain why you’re missing, and then fucking kill me-“

Butcher scoffs. “Bloody hell, lady. Calm the fuck down, Homelander ain’t gonna find out.”

“You don’t know that!” She shrieked. “He knows fucking everything! Especially since fucking Sage joined!” She spins around frantically, and her wild eyes lock onto yours. “He knows about them!” A shaking finger jumps between you and Ben. “Fuck! He’s supposed to be fucking asleep and now he’s fucking not! And he was so fucking angry about her, I’ve never seen him so fucking angry-“

Whatever else Ashley stutters about Homelander’s anger is lost to you as the world freezes. The feeling isn’t just under your skin, it’s up your spine, in your blood, circling around your brain. It’s fucking everywhere and you can’t fucking breathe, her words looping around you.

He knows. He’s angry. He fucking knows. He’s fucking angry. He fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and he fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and-

A white hot, impossibly calm feeling crashes over you. It’s angry, hungry and angry, but it’s grounding, sharpening everything around you. Suddenly the world is back in complete focus, Ashley’s shrill rambling scraping at your ears, and in the distance that weird fucking rhythm is sounding. As the feeling in your body returns fully, you realize Ben’s hand is back on your thigh. You bounce it, looking up to give him a glare, and find he’s not even looking at you. Instead, his eyes are trained on Ashley, narrowed and cold. You give a small cough, and when he glances down at you, the feeling of anger stutters with something lighter, though only for a second.

You give another bounce of your leg, a look of move your damn hand or lose it taking over your face.

No, not until you calm the fuck down his scowl responds.

You huff, standing abruptly, and his hand falls off at the force of your movement. Suddenly you feel a lot less solid, but reason that your legs are shaky from the Homelander of it all, and if any situation calls for fractured nerves, it’s this one.

“Ashley.” You call across the diner, trying not to stutter or chew off your lip as her protests falters and attention turns to you. “If you know who I am, you know I wouldn’t be anywhere near here if we weren’t certain it was safe. Just have some food with us, listen, and then you can go.”

Ashley gives you a scowl that might surpass Ben’s but nods tightly, yanking her arm from where A-Train had been trying to hold her in place. You sit back down as the group at the door returns to their seats, the poor waitress pressing herself against the bar as they pass. Letting out a shaky, unsteady breath, you try and still yourself as you look out the diner window. City lights. Music.

City lights.

Music.

It was safe. He knows and he’s angry but was safe and there were city lights and music.

Your breathing was no longer coming in short, distressed bursts, but getting air in and out of yourself still felt like an act of labor, and you needed to get it the fuck together before Ashley sat down.

City lights. Music.

You can’t hear the song the diner is playing, instead letting your whole mind turn inward, allowing the ghost of music you can no longer sing to wash over you.

Ashley sits across from you right when you regain control, and from the corner of your eye, you see Ben pulling his hand from where it had been inching towards yours.

Her eyes flit, nerves poorly hidden, from you to Ben to Butcher to Annie and back to you, and her voice is high and shaky when she speaks. “Well?”

“Ashley, we need your help.” Annie leans forward, palms flat on the table.

“Well, then we’re done. I can’t help you. They don’t tell me anything, not really.” Ashley tries to stand, but her arm is caught by A-Train. “Really?” A-Train hisses as he pulls her back into her seat beside him. “They don’t tell you anything my ass, we sit in on all the same meetings. And I pulled these files-“ He pulls out a thumb drive from absolutely nowhere and drops it on the table. “Using your name, so you clearly have access to them.”

“What?!” Ashley looks at the thumb drive like it’s going to either explode or start jizzing on her blouse. “Why would you fucking do that?”

“Insurance.” A-Train answers smugly, the thumbdrive clearly having his intended. “I can’t open it, so you’re going to tell them how, and then I’ll erase the records of you taking the files from the system.”

Ashley looks around at your group, shaking her head. “No.”

“Sorry, Mate. We ain’t really asking.” Butcher leans across A-Train, shoving the thumb drive closer to Ashley. “Do us this solid, and A-Train won’t go right up to Homelander and tell him about how he saw you also cuddly and tight with me, Soldier Boy, and his favorite missing person.”

Your heart jumps right into your throat. City lights. Music.

Suddenly, Ben’s elbow is planted against yours, and you’re pulled back down to earth just in time to hear Ashley yell, “This is fucking blackmail! I’ll fucking sue!”

“You cannot sue government officials, madame.” Frenchie says smugly, and Hughie shakes his head.

“That’s- Frenchie, that’s not even kind of true.”

“You’re also not a government official.” Annie adds.

Frenchie looks genuinely perplexed at this and gives Kimiko a confused frown, receiving a shrug in return.

“But,” you pipe up, your voice somehow bored and casual. “I’m legally dead. He’s-“ You jab Ben in the chest, and Ashley’s eyes widen. “Legally dead and an enemy of the state. You can’t sue either of us, not without admitting some Vought secrets that will be very bad PR.” You give her a twisted smile, leering across the table. “Help us, or, even if Homelander believes you, which we both know he won’t, you’ll get fired. And I’m sure they’ll be very understanding and normal about how they do it.”

You feel a flash of weird pride and realize you can see Ben fighting a smile in your periphery.

Ashley has a fearful expression, looking at where your elbow is still connected with Ben’s. “What- what's even on it?”

“Becca Butcher files.” You say, not taking your gaze from her, but you didn’t need to look around to see the sudden, rigidness with which everyone sat. You even felt Ben’s own shock run through you.

You’d be lying if you said hiding the exact contents of the file hadn’t been a very purposeful choice that you and Butcher had made. He’d cornered you, demanding to know what you planned on doing should Soldier Boy go after Ryan, and you’d told him that it wouldn’t be an issue. Ryan looked up to Homelander, that was why he stayed. He’d lost his mother, he didn’t trust Butcher, all the poor kid had was his insane, sociopathic father. Some part of you—small and sad and tired, still sitting on a staircase in Boston—understood that. But with Becca gone, gone forever, Ryan didn’t have a place to run like you’d had. Homelander was the default, and just kind enough to his son that Ryan could force himself to forgive Homelander again and again. Homelander was safe for Ryan.

You were going to make sure Ryan never saw Homelander as safe again. And that started with Becca Butcher and would end with you. So you and Butcher had agreed with a tight handshaked that he'd ripped his hand from right after, everyone was only going to know what they needed to. That was the only way it would work.

“Becca Butcher files?” MM repeats in a slow, incredulous tone. “You,” he turns with a look of shock to Butcher. “You knew about this? You’re fuckin okay with this?”

“I’m doing what has to be done, Mate.” Butcher answers flatly, then says your name. “Tell ‘em the plan, Love.”

“We need to get Ryan away from Homelander. Ryan needs to know about his mother.”

“No,” Ashley was emerging from the shock to try and stand from the table, but A-Train’s arm shot out, pulling her back down once more. “No,” she says again, looking around desperately. “Ryan, Ryan is all he has. All he cares about. You take Ryan he’ll lose his mind-“

“He’s already lost his mind.” Something snaps in your chest—a cruel feeling waking up as you watch Ashley fret about Homelander. “And I couldn’t give less fucks about what he cares about.” The feeling is crawling across your skin. “If this hurts him, good. It could never hurt him enough to make it right.” You hear drums and still can’t place where they’re coming from. “Now listen to the last fucking strand of your morality on your scalp and fucking help us.”

Ashley shakes her head again, this time with less certainty. “It’s- no- He-“ she pulls in a deep, unsteady breath. “He won’t stop until he gets Ryan back. He already is going insane about you and him and how he needs to get you back safe and put him back down, and if Ryan goes to then nothing will stop him-“

The drums are loud now, and something that’s usually there on Ben’s face is missing. Your own body doesn’t feel entirely normal anymore, but it’s not paralyzed or running. You can feel something in Ben caving, falling inward in a growing rhythm, moving in time as something in you grows. It's not in you now, it’s across you, coating your skin and singing with glee.

“Ashley,” the sound of your voice is a little far away, but you can hear it echo through you. It’s wired, hot, a warning.

“I- I can’t.”

“Yes, you fucking can.” You sneer. “You’re just too much of a pussy to do it.” Ben coughs in the way that you know means he wants to laugh, just as the drums stutter and move farther away.

“Please, I don’t-“

“Do not make me stab you.”

Ashley falters, looking you up and down. “You won’t.”

“Trust me, she will.” Ben smirks, giving you a nudge. “She’s surprisingly violent.”

“I, I won’t. I can’t. He’ll kill me-“

“You think we won’t?” Ben growls, any amusement in him gone as you feel something unbreakable and resolved through your body.

Ashley tries to run again, this time actually managing to get up from the table, but is knocked flat on her ass by A-Train before she can take two steps. You stand and give the itch, now under your tongue and your nails, a small scratch.

“Oh, fuck no.” You hear scrambling as you walk around the table and stop, staring down at Ashley.

She’s crawling back from you, back from the fire curling from your whole body, and disgust curls in your gut. For the first time you feel anger—insatiable and gory anger—all of your own. No city lights flash around you, no hollow music dances around your head. You don’t fear Ashley. She’s weak and spineless. She’s willing to cover her hands in Ryan’s blood, in your blood, to keep herself safe from Homelander. She’s staring at you, terrified, and you don’t need to touch her to know it isn’t even a fraction of all the fear you felt in that white room. That white room she knows about, may have seen, and is still trying to keep Homelander happy.

You bend down, letting all your hatred for Vought, for her, cover your features. When you speak, your words are clear and low.

“You are going to tell Butcher how to access the thumbdrive. A-Train and you are going to take some food with you, and walk back to the tower. You aren’t going to tell Homelander about this, and if he asks, offer him some leftovers. A-Train will erase your activity from the files, and you’re going to pretend the whole night never happened. If you tell Homelander about either me or Be-“ You correct yourself smoothly. “Soldier Boy, the last thing I will do before he locks me away again is kill you. Do I make myself clear?”

Ashley nods frantically, flinching when you raise your hand.

“Say it. Say that I made myself clear.”

“You-“ Ashley stutters, hiccuping. “You made yourself clear.”

You draw yourself back up. “Good. Butcher, I’m leaving. You can drive me and come back, or Ben can steal your car, but I’m leaving.”

When you turn, when you see the looks on your team’s face, all the anger is gone, and suddenly there is a crushing, painful weight of shame on your chest. They’re looking at you like Ashley had been, like you’re no better than Homelander. Like maybe you should go back in the room, it would be safer for them, it would be safer for everyone if you were far, far away-

“You heard the lady.” Ben is standing, walking around to your side. “It’s late. We’re leaving. Sunshine?” He offers you his arm, and you stare between it and your own, still covered in flame. Looking up, his face looks bored, as if this is just another Tuesday, and he offers his arm to women who are actively ablaze on a regular basis.

Your face feels slack, and all you can manage is to blink at him. I’ll burn you, Pretty Boy. It’ll hurt.

His brows subtly knit, and he doesn’t move. I’ll live, Sunshine. Don’t let them see you break. We’re going home.

You look back at your team, a wide circle of berth having formed around you and Ben. Butcher is looking between the two of you, and you recognize that glint in his eyes. You’d seen it before, but it’s only been really, truly directed at you once. In a graveyard in Boston, gravestones and bushes around you burning in the dead of winter, holding a bucket of ice that steamed off your skin. Under it, fear begins to creep back into you, exhaustion pushing it forward. Butcher reaches behind him, and your knees feel weak.

But you don’t fall. Zealous anger, strong and raw, spreads through you and Butcher’s movements still. You look down and find Ben’s arm unflinchingly looped through yours, his body at its full height as his eyes rake coldly over Butcher.

The silence hangs in the air, cut through only by Ashley’s quick, sobbed breaths. For a second you think the smoke seeping from you will overtake the room before anyone moves, but Butcher slowly reaches into his pockets, eyes not leaving Ben’s, and throws the keys at Hughie.

“Drop them off, Mate, then come right back. No bloody detours.”

Hughie stares at the keys, looking like he’s going to protest, but Kimiko grabs them before he can.

She turns to you, completely composed, no fear wavering as she locks your eyes with hers. I’ll take you.

Before you can thank her, Frenchie steps forward, signing as he speaks. “Mon Coeur, you cannot drive.”

She frowns. Yes I can.

“No, Mon Coeur, not legally.” Frenchie says, exasperated, and you have a feeling this is not first time they've had this debate.

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you. Fine. She signs back at Frenchie, throwing the keys at him. You’ll do it.

Frenchie stumbles as he catches them, giving Kimiko a shocked look, which she pretends not to see as she walks to the door, signing at you as she passes.

Let’s go before Butcher’s brain starts working.

A small smile threatens your face, and you move, tugging Ben’s arm only once before he falls into pace with you, Frenchie scrambling behind you both.

The car ride back feels longer. The moment you’d stepped out of the diner, your body had extinguished, and you had a worrying sense that the only thing keeping you from collapsing on the sidewalk was Ben’s arm firm through yours. No words were said for the entirety of the drive, you and Ben in the backseat as Frenchie drove and Kimiko lounged in shotgun, and your brain raced. Ben hadn’t let go, and the drums were fading in and out of your chest as he stared ahead into the night.

You arrived at the safe house, only a street lamp casting a dull glow across the street. The chill of the wind cutting against you as Kimiko walked you to the door, Frenchie mumbling something about keeping the car safe from Hooligans. Ben made to step inside, but halted, still not releasing your arm, as you stayed at the doorstep.

At his questioning glare, you tried to wiggle his arm from yours. “Go inside, Ben. I’ll be right there.”

He looked down at where he was still connected with you, and you felt reluctance in time with the drums, but he let go with a scowl. “Be fast,” he grunted, and stomped into the house.

You watched until he’d disappeared fully down the hall, turning to Kimiko only once his back was shrouded in the darkness of the house.

“Thank you,” you give her a soft smile, signing as you speak. “I- I don’t know what happened, I just-“

She shakes her head, and you trail off. I understand. I get angry too. She pauses, hands hovering for only a second. We are not like them. She points down the street, in the direction of the tower, and then past you, into the house. We get to be angry.

“I don’t want to be angry.” You say softly. “He wins when I get angry.”

Kimiko gives you a sad look, placing a hand on your arm. Her own frustration, her fear of Homelander, all the anger at the world, sinks into you. She holds your gaze for a second before drawing back to sign once more. He doesn’t win when you’re angry. He wins when you’re scared. You’re not Soldier Boy. Your anger is good.

You glance back into the house. “I think he- Ben- Soldier Boy- is scared. Or something. His emotions are really fucking confusing.”

You let him touch you. She signs. Does he know?

“He said he didn’t care, because he’s, and I quote, ‘not a pussy with something to hide’.”

But he’s scared? She gives you a questioning frown. Do you think it’s because of Russia? Could you fix it, like you offered for me?

“I’m not sure, but-“ you’re cut off as Frenchie honks the horn, leaning out the window.

“Mon Coeur!” His odd position makes his signing almost unintelligible, which he seems to realize, and raises his voice. “Monsieur Butcher says to get back ‘like a hare with a bomb up it’s arse'.”

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you, but signs a goodbye, giving your hand a small squeeze before returning to the car. As the engine rumbles, Frenchie pulling out the driveway, Kimiko’s calm faith lingers in you, and you walk back into the house, shutting the door behind you.

Almost all the lamps and ceiling lights of the house are off, the TV glowing from where you had abandoned it several hours ago. From the bottom of the stairs, you can see the upstairs hall is washed in a soft yellow, and when you reach the top Ben’s door is open, the light from within filling the hall. You stop at the entrance to his room, his back to you as he pulls a cotton shirt over his head.

You let out a small cough in a weak attempt to alert him to your presence.

“You’re allowed to just come in, Sunshine.” He grunts, still facing away. “I’m not a shy little virgin you need to pussyfoot around.”

You let out a small hum, walking over the threshold and stopping a few feet behind him. “Thank you.” You say softly, and he turns around to look at you.

His eyes are tired. Pained. Something looks like it’s pulling at him and it scares you. You’ve seen that expression before, when you’d woken him up that first day, at the Neuman mission, when you pulled him from nightmares with sharp hits, but never just there. It was always with something. This was like an island, just him and you, nothing pulling it out of him.

“Don’t thank me.” He says gruffly. Even his voice is drained. “You mostly held your own.”

“But-“

“And stop feeling bad about that Ashley bitch. She fucking deserved it.”

You stare at him. “You really believe that?”

He lets out a hollow laugh. “She was fucking pathetic. A fucking pussy. Fucking eating out Homelander’s fucking hand, brown-nosing him until he fucking cums and pays her, letting him take you-“ His jaw clenches. “I fucking meant it when I said we’re not going back Sunshine. I’m not a goddamn pussy liar.”

“I didn’t think you were. But, you…” Your voice fades as you try to find the words. “I could feel you. At the diner.”

“I fucking know, that was the goddamn point. I wasn’t going to let you start crying in front of those self-righteous pussies.”

“No, Ben.” You shake your head. “I could feel you. I could feel it.” You place a hand over your chest. “It was building. There was something beating against you, inside you. And you looked…” You watch him carefully. “Scared.”

“Fucking watch it.” He growls. “I don’t get fucking scared. I’m not-“

“A fucking pussy. I know.” You sigh. “I don’t want to, I can’t, fight right now. I’m so fucking tired. You can scream at me in the morning, but not right now, please.”

He stares at you, and just when you think he’s going to start yelling, he nods. “You’re…” He sounds strange. “You’re ok.”

Just like the last time he said it, the words aren’t phrased like a question. They don’t feel like a question. It feels like he’s just telling you again. But there’s something under it this time, something that makes his words almost unsure. Something that makes up your mind faster than you thought you would.

“Are you?” You ask quietly.

“Of course I fucking am.”

“Ben.” You tilt your head at him. “I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t want you to respond now.”

“You’re being fucking weird, Sunshine.”

“Please.”

He relents with a grunt. “Fucking fine. What.”

“I can fix it.” It’s so hard to keep his gaze as you speak. “It will take time, but I can fix it.”

“Fix what.” He scowls. “There’s nothing to fucking fix.”

“Your PTSD.”

“I don’t fucking have-“

“Ben, I could feel it. It’s dangerous. I could fix it.” You take a deep breath. “I can fix internal injuries as well. I offered to fix Kimiko’s muteness, but she didn’t want me to do it.”

“Then what fucking makes you think-“

“Muteness isn’t dangerous. And it would’ve been harder for me, I might have ended up mute myself. You’re dangerous like this. You can’t fucking control it, and don’t try and lie and say it’s under control. Ashley mentioned putting you back under, and you looked like someone was drowning you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sunshine.” He leers at you. “You don’t fucking know me, know what it was like-“

“I do. You know I do.” You whisper, and the anger on his face breaks. “More than anyone else, I know. I can fix it, but you’ll have to let me. Just-“ You search his eyes, not sure what you’re looking for. “Just think about it. I won’t mention it again, I won’t even touch you, but my offer will stay on the table. Please, just think about it.”

Before you can leave, he grabs your hand. A rush of painful exhaustion runs through you, and there’s anger, but it’s not full of the fervor you’ve come to expect from him. It’s not even at you. It’s wide and almost consuming, leaving room for only a small kernel of something fragile and warm.

“I don’t care if you keep touching me, Sunshine. I've go nothing to hide from you, and that’s not going to change. But there’s nothing in me you need to fucking fix, so don’t fucking bother.”

“I’m not trying to fix you, Ben,” You murmur. "But remember, you burn, I burn. Please don't burn." Your last words are soft, and the kernel pulses.

“Good,” he grunts, releasing your arm. A small smirk crawls onto his face. “Now I don’t care if it’s here or in your room, Sunshine, but you need to go the fuck to bed. You look like shit.”

Just as he says it, the full weight of your fatigue hits you. You give a mumbled acknowledgement of his words, and try to leave the room, but all the adrenaline is gone from your system and nothing is left to stop the failure of your legs or droop of your eyes. The last thing you feel is something pulling you up before your knees hit the carpet, the last thing you see is green eyes on your own, and you hear an amused snort from above you.

“Goodnight, Sunshine. Try not to dream about me.”

You try to object, but sleep pulls you under before you can even remember why you need to.

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thementalshawty · 6 months ago

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PAC The Aura You Give Off

HAYLOWWWWWWW welcome back lol I’m here with a quick PAC cos we’re almost there to 2000 followers oooop our tarot event is near!!! So to celebrate my 1985 followers huh isn’t that a Taylor Swift album? 🤔 anyways I’m here to let you guys know and see what kind of vibes you give off. I feel A lot of you like anime! I was pulled to anime images for this PAC and you guys know I do emojis. I also feel Red, Blue,Teal, & Purple are inportant to some of you or are actually the color of some of your auras they can be your favorite colors too maybe that’s how you should choose your pile? Some of you I heard!! Anyways let’s get this going you know this is a GENERAL reading take what resonated and the let the rest ROLL off it’s for someone else!!! Okay bitches let’s fuccin GOOOOOOOOOOO

Pile I

Yo this is deep and intense, I feel that’s the vibe you give off. You give off a death and resurrection vibes, the beginning and end the alpha and omegas I feel like there is plutonic energy about you guys, very scorpionic vibes. Some of you like black or are night owls. I get tortured soul vibes from you, very grungy. But so upbeat positive, unique, rare and goofy it’s like a goth singing 1000 miles by Vanessa Carlton I’m getting those vibes, pink and black vibes. You guys have been through so much shit! You guys give off defeated but thugging through with a smile vibe, happy go lucky. Sunshine on a rainy day I heard. You guys are a cloudy day but it’s still sunny. Very uranian energy too, you guys stand out and I feel you guys suffer for it. Very fun and outspoken. Outgoing! Risk takers and that’s gotten you guys into some deep trouble but you rose out of it! You guys give off soldier through war ptsd fighting for a happy ending vibes some of you have fake it til you make it vibes. Some of you. People see that you’re a warrior who’s been defeated but you’re not afraid of starting over from 0. The baddest period. Some of you may have sun in Gemini ♊️ which means happy birthdays gem babies!!! You’re unique be you and don’t worry about the pain you are the happy go lucky baby you will be ok!! You’re very strong you’ve died and came back so many times the transformations you’ve went through are endless.

Pile II

Ooof! So this pile gives off selfish bitchery vibes, you guys seem so motherly, maternal, paternal, parental, loving. Very caring and sweet but I think you give off insincere vibes like you have to give something to get something from you. I also feel people feel like some of you are players or that you’re heartbreakers, you’re very helpful I feel but people may be reluctant to take your help? Some of you may be Taurus moons?? You like money, luxury, having things, people can assume you’re bougie or stuck up!! You are very careful with who you help, again this is why people may assume the worst about you. You guys are very grounded and earthlyd. I feel like you guys have a lot and you worked for that shit! A lot of you are self made and I heard jealous! They are very fucking jealous of you! Your whole vibe and energy shit what you got too! Even if you don’t physically or materially have a lot. They want what you got, you just have it! youre the it boys/girls/its/thems! You got a lot of haters ! People try to make you guys out to be “better than them”. Idgaf that’s cos you are! You’re regal 👸🏽 🤴🏽 👑. They can’t take you and I feel like you guys defend yourself! You guys are hella motivational too you wanna see your people succeed & make it. You’re a cheerleader cos you clawed your way and fought tooth and nail I heard to make it happen for you and I am all happy for you guys I’m rooting for y’all to keep going fuck the haters and the ones that have negative thoughts Ik know getting the vibe of this guarded energy that people are mistaking for selfishness and that’s on them. Some of your guides are talking and they have attitude and I’m here for it! They don’t play about you and I think it’s cos they know what you had to go through to have what you have so protect that shit with everything regardless of how little or how much you think you have. You have a lot! I love this vibe p2. You are tight as fucc. I love you! Stay true and even if you’re bougie stay having high standards! Stay classy

Pile III

So this pile is a little sad, you guys give sad boy/girl/them vibes. It seems like you guys are very sentimental but you give off the vibe of being stuck in nostalgia if that makes sense. You can be the ones that still wear 90’s style clothes or listen to that music. lol I’m hearing still trying to make fetch work so maybe some of you like mean girls. Gretchen wieners I think her name was right? anyways you guys give off that vibe of being trapped when you’re not really trapped. You guys get into your head a lot! Some of you maybe Scorpio suns and Gemini Jupiters it can even be vice versa. I’m seeing that you’re over-thinkers and when you start thinking bout old times you can travel way back into your memories. Jupiter has to do with expansion and Gemini is mercurial mental energy so I feel like with that you guys are the biggest over-thinkers of this reading! You guys can stretch a thought for miles long! I feel like you’re hella intelligent too! You’re intense and you’re giving, romantic, sweet. You make everyone feel like they’ve met you somewhere before. You give have familiarity vibes. It’s just so easy with you I feel you can make others feel at ease and hella comfortable with you. Your aura and vibe is homely very warm like similar to p2 but more humbling. You’re generous. Kind. I feel like your aura is kind of trapped in a happy dream vibes. I heard happyland? I feel you guys are emotionally invested in your happy memories and good times. I feel in a past life you were trapped in some way. I also think you give off the vibe of being trapped so maybe some of you jail? I’m thinking that a lot of you think you’re deeper shit than you are, a lot of you feel like you’re trapped and you’re truly not. You just have to be grateful for those memories and create more, maybe you’re afraid to leave that happy space but there is a world beyond those happy memories! You’ll be surrounded by so much more happiness creating present love and happiness for yourself!

Pile IV

Okay! So I’m seeing that some of you may be some Aries sun and mercury Virgos. My roasters of this entire reading! You know how to read a bitch down hunny! I’m seeing that you are a wholesome and fulfilled person, who doesn’t rush, you know the value of working hard and waiting for your fruits to grow and ripen. Very family oriented. You know who you are and what you want which is why you don’t rush shit, you know that what’s for you is going to be yours regardless. I feel like this pile here is very humble and confident at the same time! You have a deep balance about you, very passionate yet grounded so you’re not all over the place, it’s controlled. Your circle is little and means the world to you. You are a legacy or you’ll leave behind a legacy honestly! Powerful and passionate energy. I also feel like you know how to manifest this pile gives me magician vibes, you know how to create physical and material things from energy. You’re a great friend; a great hang and a wonderful time. You are amazing and magical, you’re wealth, a lot of you may have wealth or are destined for it, material wealth. You are in charge, you are the boss if there’s a CEO you’re the boss of them; you know what you want and you accept only that nothing less than the best for you. I’m so glad that you have that self love! You’re a leader meant to rule, you give off big boss captain energy. You are meant to have lots of people following your rules or journey maybe admirers? Followers maybe online? I get this vibe that you’re that fighter who never stops punching even when they’re on the ground, you’ve never lost a battle. You’re a champion!

WELP! That’s it guys that’s all! I’m so happy that I can share this cool reading with you guys! Should I do more personal readings like this! I hope that it resonated with you guys and for my patreon group please get your questions in before may ends thank you!

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saigethearies · 2 years ago

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lust struck

tetsurou kuroo x fem!reader

18+ MINORS DNI

contents/warnings: accidental aphrodisiac usage (reader), alcohol mention, praise, use of pet names, thigh riding, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, dacryphilia, reader and kuroo are engaged, service dom!kuroo

wc: 1.5k

author’s note: my first haikyuu piece! enjoy, y’all!

the faint noise of a whimper almost pulled kuroo out of his sleep. his mind merely chalked it up to be the sounds of a dream, the likes of which you and your sweet sounds often played the starring role in.

however, the second whimper accompanied by the feeling of something wet and heavy sliding back and forth on his leg definitely had his eyes snapping open.

blinking his drowsiness away, kuroo sat up in bed to see you, satin cocktail dress bunched around your waist, grinding your wet little pussy against his thigh.

his breath got caught in his throat and for the first time ever, tetsurou kuroo was at a loss for words.

regaining his composure as he heard a choked sob leave your lips, kuroo reached a hand out to your face. “quite the wake-up call you’re giving me here, angel.”

you looked up at him and the sports promoter was surprised to see unshed tears in your eyes, the water threatening to spill over your lashline as you continue to rock your hips against the exposed skin of his thigh.

“tetsu,” you whined out to him. “tetsu, i need you, i need you so bad please.”

normally you begging for him so nicely like this would put the biggest smirk on his lips. however, kuroo’s head was still trying to process what exactly the hell was going on.

the last time he saw you it was around 9 pm and you were heading out to have a girls night with your friends. he had given you a quick kiss to your lips, told you to be safe, call him if you needed anything, and sent you on your way.

now, it was 2 am according to the digital clock on his nightstand, and you were back here in your shared bedroom trying to ride his thigh like a bitch in heat.

“baby, it’s late and you might be a little tipsy, maybe we should wait till the mo-“

“tets, it hurts.”

he frowns. “what do you mean it hurts, baby?”

you choke out another sob as a tear spills down your cheek, grinding your core down onto his leg with more fervor.

“there was this drink I had at the cocktail bar, and i-i didn’t see until i finished it that there was some aphrodisiac in it.”

kuroo’s usually droopy eyes widened. an aphrodisiac?

“i-i thought it was just a gimmick, but now i feel like…like…ohmygod tetsu it hurts so bad, help me please please- oh”

your head was thrown back and the hardening and flexing of muscle gave new stimulation to your clit, kuroo’s large hands grabbing onto your hips and aiding you in moving along his thigh.

your fiancé gently shushed you. “it’s okay, angel, you don’t have to beg. m’ gonna take care of you, alright?”

you move your head to meet his tender gaze, nodding vigorously as the dark haired man leaned over to give you a kiss, one which you were more than eager to deepen.

the new facet of intimacy added onto the sensations your clit had been receiving for the past few minutes went ahead and tumbled you over the edge for the first time. unfortunately, the aphrodisiac you had consumed wasn’t letting up, for the scorching heat you felt was back in an instant.

“tetsu,” you breathed out to him, a pleading look in your eyes. “i need more.”

“then more is what my sweet girl will get.”

kuroo lifted your smaller body off of his thigh, turning you around so that your back was against his chest. he then hooked his legs over yours to keep you spread open, your greedy pussy exposed to air in the room that seemed to be feeling warmer by the second.

snaking a hand down towards your glistening core, your fiancé brought his lips to the shell of your ear. “my poor baby, you must’ve been suffering so much tonight.”

a little gasp left your lips as his thumb started to circle your clit, teeth nipping at your earlobe. you pushed your hips further into his touch, but couldn’t move much with kuroo’s legs keeping yours pinned.

“let me do all the work, sweet girl. just relax f’ me, okay?”

one finger slid past your slick-stricken entrance, quickly followed by another since you were already plenty wet. his fingers quickly began to pump in and out while his thumb continued its ministrations on your swollen bud.

you leaned your head back against kuroo’s shoulders as you cried out, the relief of having your pussy played with a saving grace after being subjected to the effects of the aphrodisiac for hours.

the sounds leaving your lips began to gain intensity as the dark haired man slid the thin strap of your dress off your shoulder, his other hand quickly going to knead at your tit as he fingered you.

“tetsu,” you panted out. “feels s’good!”

you felt your lover smirk against your neck as he began to pepper it with kisses, adding a third finger into your cunt and curling them.

tears streamed down your cheeks, so happy to feel all the wonderful stimulation your pussy was receiving. kuroo picked up the pace of his fingers even more, drawing harsher circles on your clit as well.

you struggled to vocalize to him what you were experiencing. “t-tets…”

“i know, baby, i know.”

and with one last flick to your bud, you were coming undone again.

“there you go, sweet girl,” kuroo cooed as he felt you creaming around his fingers. “does my baby feel better now?”

the answer to his question didn’t come from your words, but rather the hot feeling returning to your cunt, a pained whimper leaving your lips.

you tilted your head up, eyes hazy and brain fogged with need. “need you to fuck me, tetsu.”

the dark haired man quickly flipped the two of you over, your back pressed into the mattress as kuroo hovered over you. he quickly slid his grey sweatshorts off as you babbled to him.

“need your cock so bad, tetsu, fill me up, please.”

your fiancé grabbed the fabric of your dress, instructing you to lift your arms up so that he could rid you of the clothing. you obediently did as you were told.

as soon as he had both of you naked, kuroo grabbed hold of your hips and lifted them up slightly. bringing his hardened cock to your core, he slid his dick between your sticky folds.

“d-don’t tease!”

“‘m not, angel, i promise, just gotta get lubed up.”

keeping his grip on your hips, kuroo started to insert his big cock into you. every inch that he pushed in had you descending into another layer of euphoria, the feeling of being filled consuming your every thought.

“s’ full, s’ full!”

kuroo hummed as he started to slide back out of your sloppy pussy only to slam back in when he was almost all the way out. moans bubbled past your lips as he continued to snap his hips into yours, moving you to meet his thrusts each time.

the sight of your tits bouncing as he slams into you is a sight that will never get old, the dark haired man burning it into his memory every time.

leaning over you so that he could reach your lips, kuroo began to kiss you in between your moans. keeping one hand on your lower back for leverage, the other came to intertwine your fingers together.

“fuck, you feel so good, sweet girl”

he changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting deeper into you. your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you let yourself fall further into the pleasure your fiancé was bringing to you, the effects of the aphrodisiac being alleviated with one snap of his hips at a time.

you could feel the coil in your stomach tightening once more, your free hand reaching out to grab onto kuroo’s shoulder. “tetsu, m’gonna cum!”

“then cum, angel, you deserve it.”

you weren’t sure if it was the aphrodisiac, your fiancé’s sweet words, or the fact that it was your third time cumming, but your final orgasm had you gushing around his cock, liquid soaking your joined pelvises.

“shit, sweet girl,” kuroo grunted, the sight of you squirting around his dick triggering his own orgasm as he spilled inside of you.

the two of you were still for a minute as you regained your breaths. resting his forehead against yours, the sports promoter gave a quick peck to your lips.

“now are you feeling better?”

you nodded, encircling your arms around his neck and tangling your fingers in his hair. “i am, i think it’s finally over now.”

“good, you were starting to worry me there, baby. not used to seeing you willingly beg so much.”

you felt your cheeks warm in embarrassment.

“shut up.”

kuroo chuckled, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek. “i’m just messing with you.”

“i know,” you replied. “thank you, tetsu, i…i really needed you.”

“of course, sweet girl, i told you i’m always gonna take care of you.”

he brought your hand to his lips, placing a quick kiss on the back of it as your diamond shone in the moonlight.

“that’s why i put this pretty ring on your finger, yeah?”

(taglist: @dreamcastgirl99 @tired-biscuit @sigma-himbokuto)

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #tetsurou kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsuro smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut

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chosok-amo · 5 months ago

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YUMMMMM.ᐟ

suguru geto. your older stepbrother who turns your life upside down when the second he returns to your hometown, living near you again after all these years living in Tokyo. You used to have a crush on him when you were little. His tall figure, jet-black long hair, sharp purple eyes, muscle, and everything, he's perfect. When you hit puberty you sometimes wonder how it feels like to get fucked by him, and the day you turn 25, the wish suddenly comes true.

beware. OOC!Suguru Geto, stepbrother!Suguru, hair-pulling, anal, aged up Suguru, name-calling, dirty talk, suggestive convertation.

⠀⠀ ⠀My social life has taken a beating since my stepbrother, Suguru Geto, returned to town. Sure, when I was sixteen and he was nineteen and just heading off to college, it was totally cool to hang with him. Not that we had much in common, but still. Now, inching close to 25, it’s not nearly as fun anymore. After graduation, he moved off to Tokyo, while I stuck around Kyoto. And so, we haven’t exactly spent a lot of time together…for quite a while. But now, he’s back. For good, he says.

⠀⠀ ⠀And he’s totally cramping my style.

⠀⠀ ⠀Oh, don’t get me wrong. Suguru is one fine ass boy, no doubt. He’s big, over six feet tall, and built like a tank...all muscle, without an ounce of fat on him. Add in the pretty boy's smile, pale skin, shining bright purple eyes… and he’s the boy next door that my friends drool over whenever he interrupts our girls’ night out. Sadly, he’s also a stepbrother who doesn’t want his stepsister getting it on with anyone. Ever.

⠀⠀ ⠀He’s never said the words, but he seems to make damn sure he stands close to me in the clubs, hovering over me, watching me like a hawk. While my girls are off getting their freak on, I’m chatting it up with Suguru.

⠀⠀ ⠀Much like tonight.

⠀⠀ ⠀It’s my 25th birthday. Yup. Big. Two. Five.

⠀⠀ ⠀Maki and Nobara are on the dance floor, their boyfriends grinding against their asses while they move to the beat. And damn, their men are fine, all muscles and covered in smooth skin.

⠀⠀ ⠀That is what I need.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Y/n? Are you listening to me?”

⠀⠀ ⠀Suguru’s lips brush my ear and I fight against the shiver that races down my spine. I turn to him with a wide smile, bite back my irritation. He’s sweet. A very, very sweet temptation. I could gladly gorge myself on his brand of sugar, with hopefully, a hint of spice. And I don’t want a damn bit of nice. I turn my head to the side and yell so he can hear me. “Of course I’m listening. You were just saying that you were gonna get me another margarita.”

⠀⠀ ⠀I press a smacking kiss to his cheek, leaving a nice smear of lipstick behind. When I pull back to smile at him, he just rolls his eyes and screams back to me. “Last one.” I nod. Always the ever-dutiful, little stepsister. “I mean it!” He points a finger at me, scowl in place.

⠀⠀ ⠀Later, I’ll blame it on the alcohol. Now, I blame it on his hotness. I lean forward and swallow his finger, run my tongue along the digit suckle it, and slide along the length until he slips free of my mouth. I nip the tip, scrape my teeth over the pad, and then give it a chaste kiss before I lean back. “Thank you, Suguru.”

⠀⠀ ⠀He looks shell-shocked, eyes wide, mouth opening and closing like a fish. An adorable, totally fuckable, boy fish. He gives himself a full body shake and then rises from his stool, looking at me like I’ve got two fucking heads.

⠀⠀ ⠀I don’t.

⠀⠀ ⠀But he does.

⠀⠀ ⠀One upper and one lower… Yum. Lower.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Y/n!” A hand slaps my bare shoulder and I turn to find Maki and Nobara standing nearby, both wearing their “I’m totally about to ditch you so I can get freaky with my man” smiles. “Bitch” Straight up. “Both of y’all are bitch.”

⠀⠀ ⠀Maki leans forward first, pulling me into a hug. “Suguru can take you home, right?” I release her with a roll of my eyes and give Nobara a quick kiss on the cheek. “Yes, Suguru can take me home. Did I mention y’all were a bitch?”

⠀⠀ ⠀“You’re just a jealous bitch.”

⠀⠀ ⠀I raise my eyebrows. “And?”

⠀⠀ ⠀It’s the same old thing. They go home with their men and I go home with...no one. Except Suguru. Who I can’t have. I wave the two couples off and watch out for my brother, his ass weaving through the crowd toward me, my drink in his hand. Damn, we’d look so gorgeous together. I smile to myself only thinking about it.

⠀⠀ ⠀He slides onto the stool and sets my drink before me. The lovely, green light blinds me, I wrap my hand around the cool, sweating glass and bring it to my lips. Focusing on Suguru, I lap at the stand and, run my tongue along the rim a moment before I take a sip of the tart beverage. His attention’s all over me, eating me up with his eyes, mouth slightly parted, and staring at me like he’s a starving man…and I’m having dinner.

⠀⠀ ⠀Yum.

⠀⠀ ⠀Placing my drink on the table, I lean forward and brace myself with a hand on his thigh, squeeze the muscle that flexes beneath my palm before venturing farther north, then brush against his groin with my fingertips. “Y/n…” I hear the warning in his voice and I don’t care. I’ve wanted him for far too long. Worst-case scenario? He gets pissed, and stops tagging the fuck along. Score for me! ‘Cause that means he can’t rain on my “please dear God let me get laid” parade any longer. A large hand encircles my wrist, keeps me from moving. I stick out my lower lip and pout. “Suguru…”

⠀⠀ ⠀“You’re drunk.”

⠀⠀ ⠀I roll my eyes. “No, I’m not. I’m horny, I’ve been attracted to you for forever, and I want to get fucked for my birthday.” I yank free of his hold and snag my purse from the tabletop before sliding from the stool. A quick tug on my tight miniskirt puts things back where they belong, and then I focus again on my stepbrother. “Since it’s obvious you’re not up,” I flick a glance at his groin to make sure he gets the innuendo, “for the challenge, I’ll go home and take care of things myself. Or grab a man on my way out the door.” I step close to him. “Maybe this boy is too intimidated to give a sista a good time. Maybe there’s someone here who can give me what I need.”

⠀⠀ ⠀I spin on my heel and weave my way toward the door, surveying my options. Oh, I get plenty of looks. With my smooth skin, beautiful feature, and a curvaceous body to boot, I’m a catch for any man. I’ve got great tits, and also a big booty that men love to grab onto when they fuck me from behind.

⠀⠀ ⠀Hell, as horny as I am right now, I’d take just about any man who knows what to do with his cock—no matter how old or who he was. Then, I see a man that just may do, and drag one of my fingernails along his arm as I pass, give him a wink that has him turning toward me and stepping in my direction. Only to be brought up short by Suguru.

⠀⠀ ⠀Mother. Fucker.

⠀⠀ ⠀Okay, he’s not really. But I wouldn’t terribly mind him being a sister fucker right about now. I don’t hear what he says, but the guy I’d set my sights on returns to his friends while Suguru continues to come after me. I roll my eyes and get back on my way. In a handful of steps, I’m out of the stifling, cloying air of the club and into the cool night.

⠀⠀ ⠀A body presses into me from behind, a large erection grinding into my ass, and the scent I’d recognize anywhere surrounds me. “You’re a cock-tease, Y/n.” Hands appear on my hips, flex, and then tighten their grip while he rubs his dick along my crack. “Teasers get punished, even if she happens to be my sister. You’ve pushed me too far—and now you’re going to get what you’re asking for.” Suguru nuzzles my neck, teeth scrape my skin, and then his lips nibble my earlobe. “You ready for that? Ready for your brother to fill your pussy with his big cock? Pull your hair? Spank this beautiful, ass for being a bad girl?”

⠀⠀ ⠀I’m aching and hot and wet as fuck. Like cream will be sliding down my thighs at any moment wet. My nipples had hardened with the cool air, but now they’re rock-fucking-hard for an entirely different reason. I don’t want to answer him, afraid of him turning away, but I can’t keep quiet. “Yes.” I moan when one hand snakes around me, then slide down my stomach to rest right above my needy mound. “Fuck me. Yes, I’m ready.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Oh, baby, I will.” He releases me for a split second and snags my hand, twines my fingers with his, and tugs me into the parking lot. “But no bitching when I mess up your hair.” My hair. Lord, how many arguments have we gotten into over my hair. He’s fascinated with all the different looks I’ve had over the years, getting it done just about every weekend. And he always has to play with it.

⠀⠀ ⠀No one touches a woman’s hair. We spend way too much time and money for someone to just fuck it up. At the car, I finally answer him, hand on his crotch, stroking his bulge. “Oh, Suguru, you fuck me right, and you can do anything you want.” I nibble his lower lip and then slide into his SUV, leaving him there to glare at me for a moment while he adjusts his hard cock. Then, he moves around the vehicle to settle behind the steering wheel.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Not another word, Y/n.”

⠀⠀ ⠀With a lick of my lips, I eye his cock, but remain quiet throughout the drive. Suguru navigates the streets of downtown Kyoto with ease, and it’s not long before we’re pulling up in front of his house, a sprawling, ranch-style home with more space than he could ever need. I wait while he climbs from the SUV and comes around to hold the door open for me. I keep my mouth shut, smile in place as I follow him up the walk. I watch the shift of his ass in his slacks and I just want to taste it, sink my teeth in, and take a bite out of his cute little butt.

⠀⠀ ⠀Yeah, I’ve got a bit of an ass fetish.

⠀⠀ ⠀Actually, I think it’s more of a “Suguru” fetish.

⠀⠀ ⠀A quick walk up the path and we’re inside within moments, the interior wrapping us in darkness. Then, Suguru’s wrapping me in him. The door closes with a soft click, and just like that, my back’s slammed against the solid wood surface, while my brother presses against me from the front. Before I can blink, he has my wrists pinned above my head, leaving me at his mercy.

⠀⠀ ⠀Fuck, I like being at his mercy.

⠀⠀ ⠀His face is right there, less than an inch from mine, lips merely a stretch away…and I ache to kiss him. Suguru flexes his hips, his cock growing harder with each passing second it’s pushed against me. I wiggle in response, pussy needy and hurting, begging to be filled. I know my panties are soaked, and soon, the cream will be coating my upper thighs, the thong not much protection against my arousal.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Suguru…” I want him. Damn, I want this man. Want him to fuck me, make me come, make me scream his name while he pulls my hair and pounds his big dick into me. My pussy, my ass, my mouth. His cock. Never had an older boy, but damn, it just adds a bit more of the forbidden to this, this thing between sister and brother. Then there’s the fact that my brother has me pinned…

⠀⠀ ⠀I’m hot, horny, needy and so fucking ready to come.

⠀⠀ ⠀He moans and closes the distance left between us, lips on mine, tongue delving into my mouth and sweeping through, tasting me like I’m tasting him. A hint of scotch explodes over my taste buds as I stroke and tease him, search out his natural flavor while I suck on his tongue, all the while showing him just how well I can treat him.

⠀⠀ ⠀Suguru rocks his hips against me, and I bring my leg up to go around his waist, dig my heel into his ass, open my thighs to him so he can rub precisely where I ache. He transfers his hold on my wrists to one hand, and then he’s gripping my knee, holding me in place, thick cock teasing my pussy.

⠀⠀ ⠀He breaks the kiss for a moment. “Wrap your legs around me.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Oh, Suguru.” I do as he asks, ankles locked around his waist to hold them in place, then he releases my arms and knee to grip my ass with his large hands. “That’s it baby.” I’m being held up by his hands cupping my butt cheeks and the door against my back, with his bulge giving me the friction I need. My pussy’s clenching on air, my slutty cunt’s looking to be filled, more than ready for his big dick. Each flex of his hips sends another frisson of arousal down my spine. “Suguru. So good.”

⠀⠀ ⠀He kneads my ass, fingers flexing and squeezing. I want him in me, coming and making me come, filling me up with his hot load. “Like that? Like your brother rubbing your pussy with his dick? You always used to tease me, Y/n. Talk about how boys don’t know how to fuck a woman. You want it, don’t you? Want this fat cock.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Yes, Suguru, I do. Please…” He presses harder and I gasp, roll my head against the cold surface of the door, so eager to get fucked by my brother. “Come on, sis. Let me give you what you need.” All at once, the security of the door leaves me and I’m clinging to Suguru like a scared child, arms around his shoulders and a scream in my throat. “I got you, Y/n. Not going to let anything happen to you.”

⠀⠀ ⠀I know what I am, and thin isn’t it. I’m thick. Real thick in a lot of places, and definitely not light. But Suguru’s carrying me like I weigh nothing. Feeling a little more secure, I turn my attention to keeping his motor running, licking and nibbling his neck, kissing just below his ear, and reveling in the moans that I get in return.

⠀⠀ ⠀Before I know it, I’m flying through the air, landing on his big bed with a bounce, a laugh on my lips, my need for him to fill me still unwavering. I’m staring at him, his broad shoulders, heaving chest, the huge bulge in his pants. I want it. Want to taste him. To suck him. “Next time, baby. You touch me and I’ll explode. I just want to eat that chocolate pussy until you scream, and then fuck you dry.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Fuck, Suguru…” I whimper, squirming, rubbing my thighs together to try and alleviate some of the ache. He tears his shirt off, showing me all of his muscles, his six-pack abs, and those cute little lines at his hips. Now there, I wanna lick. Love those. Wanna nibble and see if they’re as big a turn-on for him as they are for me.

⠀⠀ ⠀His pants are next, practically torn from his body. Big bro’s gone commando, showing me his large, cock in an instant. Damn the boy’s hung. Long and thick and all for me. The head’s an angry red, like it’s dying to slam into me. Fuck yeah.

⠀⠀ ⠀I open my legs, tiny skirt sliding to my waist with ease while I show him my G-string clad pussy. I take one hand and slide a finger along the wet fabric, shudder at the pleasure that shoots through me. “What’re you waiting for then? Come eat my pussy.” Suguru kneels on the bed and moves between my legs, stroking that big dick while he watches me rub myself. “Fuck yeah, look at how wet you are. All that cream for me, baby? Are you wet for me?”

⠀⠀ ⠀He brushes my hand aside, mimics my moves, and touches me like I’ve wanted to be touched for so long. I lean back on my elbows and, drop my head back, fully enjoying his caresses and moaning each time he skims my clit. “Yes, all for you. Yours.” I’m panting, but I whimper when he pulls his hand away, then gasp when my G-string suddenly disappears with a quick tug on the fabric, leaving my cunt exposed to the cool air.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Look at all that cream.” He smiles at me before he shifts his position, bends down, and rubs his rough cheek against my inner thigh. “Smells so good. So hot for me. You want me to lick this pussy, Y/n? Want your brother to make you scream?”

⠀⠀ ⠀His heated breath fans over my wet lower lips. “Please… Eat me, Suguru. Then I want that fat cock to fuck me.” I watch while he slips his tongue out and laps at my slit, tip skating over my needy flesh, a moan forming deep in my chest.

⠀⠀ ⠀“You taste so sweet, baby.”

⠀⠀ ⠀He dives back in, separates my nether lips, fingers holding me open while he licks me from entrance to clit and back again. He circles my opening, teasing those sensitive nerves, leaving me panting. Suguru travels up to my exposed button, flick, flick, flicking the nub, shots of pleasure zipping through me, lightning singeing each of my nerve endings as my muscles spasm in response.

⠀⠀ ⠀I try to hold back, but I can’t. I drop my weight to the mattress and fist his hair, flex my fingers and dig my nails into his scalp. “Fuck yes, give it to me.” He moans against my heat and a finger slides into my pussy, stroking my walls a few times before he fills me with two. “That’s it. Fuck me with your fingers. Make me come.”

⠀⠀ ⠀Suguru sucks on my clit, digits stroking in time with the movements of his mouth, the squishing sounds of him moving in and out of me mingling nicely with my harsh breathing. He strokes that neglected place inside me, rubbing against my G-spot with every thrust and retreat. I move one of my hands from his head and tug my top aside to reveal my breasts. I pinch my chocolate brown nipple and pull on the hard nub. I rock my hips, move with him, whisper and whimper while he works over my spasming pussy.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Yes…there…please…lick that pussy.” He moans, sucks harder, shoves three fingers into my cunt, and a pinch of pain joins my pleasure. Ecstasy’s gathering, slithering through me, connecting all of the nerves in my body and forcing my muscles to twitch. My orgasm’s inching closer, growing bigger and bigger, gathering speed and intensity with each passing second.

⠀⠀ ⠀“That cunt taste good? You like licking your sister’s pussy?” Fuck. That nasty talk sends a tremor of pleasure down my spine, forcing my back to arch, a scream from my throat. This is my brother, Suguru… My new lover.

⠀⠀ ⠀He pulls his mouth away, but replaces his tongue with the thumb of his other hand, presses and circles my throbbing clit while he keeps pumping his digits in and out of me. “Come on my hand, baby. You taste so fucking good. Bet you’ll feel better when you let go. Come on my hand and I’ll give you my fat cock.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Yes, yes, yes…”

⠀⠀ ⠀I’m so close, so damned close. It’s right there, within reach, and I want it more than my next breath. I release his hair completely and pinch the nipple on my other breast, add more pain to the pleasure.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Do it, Y/n. Gimme your cum.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Fuckfuckfuck...”

⠀⠀ ⠀It’s on me now, filling me and sending me flying high, fireworks forming behind my eyelids while I scream Suguru’s name and come all of his fingers like he asked. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. I’m a ball of pure pleasure and I love every second of it, the bliss my brother has given me pours through my veins, sending me higher and higher with each thrust of his hand.

⠀⠀ ⠀Trembling, breathing heavy and urging him on, I gasp when he crawls up me, thrusts that thick dick into my sopping wet pussy, stretching me even more.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Suguru!”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Fuck yeah. Take your brother’s cock.” He pulls out and slams in again, jarring us both, sending the bed banging against the wall. “Take it all.” I arch and flex against him, meet his thrusts, wrap my arms around him and pull him closer to me. His dick hits even more of those hidden places in my cunt, the head of his prick stroking and teasing me.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Give it to me. Want it all.”

⠀⠀ ⠀He growls and pushes all the way into me, holds his hips against mine and grinds, tiny circles that press his pubic bone against my sensitive clit. “You’re such a dirty little slut. Getting fucked by your brother. Taking this cock.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“More!” I plant my heels on the mattress, try to buck and force him to move.

⠀⠀ ⠀He keeps up the small movements. “Beg me.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Please. Please, Suguru, fuck me. Give me your big dick. Fuck me hard. Make me scream.” I’m breathless, needy and wanting and ready to do just about anything he asks. Suguru withdraws and then shoves forward again, my tits bouncing with the thrust, bed banging as a scream of pleasure gathers in my throat.

⠀⠀ ⠀It’s so good. My cunt’s still spasming and squeezing his cock with every entrance. Again and again he pushes into my tight, wet heat. I scratch his back, dig in my nails, love the way pleasure and pain dance across his features. He’s loving this as much as I am…and I revel in the fact I’m able to give this to him.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Harder. More.” I’m demanding, but I don’t care. I want this. Want him so badly.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Fucking slut, aren’t you?”

⠀⠀ ⠀“For you.” Only for him. Yeah, I’ve had plenty of sex, but I’ve never been this hot or this needy. “That’s right. This is my pussy.” He withdraws and shoves forward, pistoning like a fucking jackhammer.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Mine, mine, mine…”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Yes!”

⠀⠀ ⠀He’s pounding me hard. And the rhythmic slam, slam, slam of the bed makes me happy he lives in a house and not in an apartment. I meet each thrust, our skin slapping together, bodies colliding as pleasure rises with each passing moment. I’m so close to coming, shattering around him. My pussy’s milking him, orgasm approaching once again.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Gonna come, Suguru. Come on your dick.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Do it. Come on, baby. Give it to your brother like the slut you are.”

⠀⠀ ⠀Fuckfuckfuck…

⠀⠀ ⠀‘Cause it’s there, pouring through me and slamming headlong into my pussy. I tighten my hold, back arched and yelling, but I’m not too sure what—‘cause the pleasure is simply…overwhelming. I’m sobbing, clawing, pulling him closer, but he keeps up his bruising thrusts, keeps drawing out the ecstasy…on and on and on. Dear god, help me.

⠀⠀ ⠀He growls and yanks my arms from around him, flips me over, and then fills me once again. I’m on my hands and knees before him, Suguru holding my hips with a bruising grip, yanking me back and forth over his dick. The slapping sounds from our bodies colliding echoes in the room, while his balls hitting my clit with each of his thrusts sends me flying high once again. It’s so good. So hot. So fucking unbelievable. One of his hands moves to my shoulder as the other grips and fists my hair.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Fuck yeah, Suguru. Give it to me hard.”

⠀⠀ ⠀Then it begins in earnest. Suguru yanks me against each of his thrusts, the sting of him tugging my hair working through me and joining in on the pleasure. My pussy’s creaming while more and more of my arousal slides down my thighs, coating the two of us. Sweat covers my back with Suguru’s mingling with mine. I love being this close to him. I’ve waited so fucking long for this.

⠀⠀ ⠀He keeps up the pace. More, I want so much more…

⠀⠀ ⠀I palm one of my breasts, tug on my nipple, moan and groan while he works me over, takes pleasure from my body, gives back just as much. “Like that? Take my fat dick, Y/n.” He’s breathing heavy, panting.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Such a sweet pussy.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Yes…” I hiss, his grip tightening.

⠀⠀ ⠀“You’re gonna come one more time. One more, baby. And then I’m gonna fuck this sweet ass of yours.” My pussy tightens, anxious and ready. “Anyone taken your ass, baby? Fucked this dark hole? It wants me, wants me to shove my dick in there.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“No, no one.”

⠀⠀ ⠀He releases my hair, grabs one cheek, his thumb sliding along the crease. “Gonna take your cherry then, baby.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Yes…” I want it, want my brother to take it. This is the hottest fuck I’ve ever had. It’s hard and rough and he’s my brother with a cock that doesn’t seem to quit. The hand on my ass moves to between my thighs, finds my throbbing clit, and he rubs the nub, quick and dirty like his fucking.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Fuck…yeah…gonna…” ‘Cause I am. I’m gonna come all over his cock, squeeze and milk him while pleasure takes over every inch of me. I scream and yell, claw the sheets while my veins spark and burn, fire dancing along every single nerve in my body. Muscles spasm and tighten, toes curl in my shoes. Hell no. I’m not letting this boy go anytime soon. Not if he fucks me this good. And I come again, third time’s the charm, absolute bliss exploding in each and every one of my cells while he keeps it up, continues to give me pleasure while wave after wave of ecstasy takes me higher.

⠀⠀ ⠀Fuck, it’s so good, so hot…scorching me from the inside out and back again.

⠀⠀ ⠀This time, Suguru lets me calm a little before he pulls out, hands on my ass, separating the cheeks and exposing me fully. I’ve never trusted anyone enough to let them in the “back door,” but this is Suguru…and I know he’d never do anything to hurt me.

⠀⠀ ⠀His fingers play over my aroused flesh, dip to my pussy, and then ghost over my asshole, teasing me, and I shiver at the contact, the strange sensation I feel. “Shh…nice and easy, baby. Reach into that drawer over there and grab the lube.” With a stretch, I do as he asks, snag the bottle of clear liquid, and then hold it out for him. I get a wink from Suguru before I turn back around, lower my chest to the mattress and just relax, take what he’s about to give me.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Such a pretty little asshole.” A cool finger teases the entrance and another shudder overtakes me. “It’s just begging for my cock, baby.” Then, that finger slides in easy, not a hint of pain, and the first stirrings of pleasure start throbbing in time with my heart.

⠀⠀ ⠀I moan and push back against the intrusion. It’s strange, but so good.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Want more, Y/n?”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Please…” I whimper. He gives me what I beg for, eases another finger into my asshole, and still, no pain—just unimaginable pleasure. He thrusts in and out of me, fingers scissoring and stretching my virgin hole, prepping me to take that fat cock of his. “Suguru…” I whine, ready for more.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Such a needy slut.” He doesn’t sound too upset by the idea, and gives me another finger. This time, I feel the pinch of pain and I gasp, then my body stills for a moment. “Easy, baby. Breathe through it. It’s gonna feel so good, just give it a minute.” He strokes my back, hand sliding along my spine while he gently slides in and out of my asshole, getting me ready to get fucked back there.

⠀⠀ ⠀And he’s right. I am needy. In moments, I’m panting again, just waiting for him to plow into me with his dick. “Suguru, give it to me. Fuck me. Fill me with your cum already.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“What a naughty girl.”

⠀⠀ ⠀Hearing the laugh in his voice, I look over my shoulder. “Only for you.” He just barks out another laugh, and then those sweet fingers disappear, only to be replaced with the head of his cock kissing my asshole. “Nice and easy, Y/n. Push out a little while I push in. Then, I promise you’re going to feel so good, baby.”

⠀⠀ ⠀I force myself to relax, put my trust in Suguru and do as he asks. Inch by stretching inch, I accept his dick, body parting for him, his cock stroking unknown nerves and pleasure points. He feeds me his prick. And as seconds slip away, before I know it, he’s thrusting into my asshole, spearing me with his hard shaft.

⠀⠀ ⠀Losing track of time, I refocus as his hips rest against mine, balls brushing my pussy. Suguru strokes my back, fingers dancing over my skin, touching and caressing me so tenderly. He teases my ass, fingers playing along my hole where he’s penetrating me.

⠀⠀ ⠀“You should see this. So sweet, so pretty. Your asshole’s just sucking me in and keeping me hot.” He pulls out a little and then eases back into me, yanking a gasp and moan from deep in my chest. “That’s it, baby, nice and easy.”

⠀⠀ ⠀He does it again, retreat and advance, breaks me apart. I’m so full, I think I’m gonna burst, blow up and burn in a fire that’s threatening to consume me.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Fuck, Suguru.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Like that?” I can hear the smile in his voice.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Hell yeah. Do me harder, please..”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Shit, baby.” He groans, but listens, pulls out and pushes in with more force, gives and takes with increased passion. “Sweetest, tight little ass.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Pound me with that big dick, brother. Show me what a good fuck you are.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Such a slut.” There’s still no malice, just arousal tingeing his voice, and he gives me what I long for. It’s like the chains he’s had on himself melt away. Suguru withdraws and then shoves forward, hard enough for the bed to pick up its banging, his balls smacking my pussy and sending light tingles along my spine. The scent of our sex surrounds us, the musk filling the air, permeating our pores.

⠀⠀ ⠀On and on he goes, in and out, in and out, slap, slap, slap…

⠀⠀ ⠀I never knew. Never knew that anal sex could feel so good, so right, and make me come. It’s right there, close enough to reach out and grab. I’m full and stuffed and stretched, the pinch melding with the pleasure until I’m a glowing balloon of ecstasy, growing larger with every passing second. My breathing’s labored, even harder than before. I’m exhausted, fucked-tired, and just ready to come so I can pass the fuck out. Suguru can keep going for all I care, but I just need to rest for a minute.

⠀⠀ ⠀“You gonna come, baby? Your ass is begging for it, milking my dick.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Mmm-hmm…” I can’t really talk. I can mumble a little, though. ‘Cause I want it, want him to paint me from the inside out. He slaps my ass, waking me up in an instant, sending a lightning bolt of pleasure through me. “Fuck me.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“That’s what I’m doing, baby.” He spanks me again, harder this time, the burn shoving my orgasm closer.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Suguru!”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Oh, yeah, you like that.” I can feel his smug attitude radiating from behind me, and he deserves every bit of those feelings because he’s right.

⠀⠀ ⠀Actually, he’s wrong. I don’t just like it—I fucking love it.

⠀⠀ ⠀Another smack, another jolt. Again and again, in time with his strokes, shoving in and yanking out of my asshole while he spanks my cheeks. I feel the heat and pain mingling in the pleasure his fucking’s creating, rolling together and creating a wave of undeniable ecstasy. It’s growing and growing larger by the second until I’m filled with it. Every nook and cranny inside my body is consumed by the sensation he’s creating.

⠀⠀ ⠀He fucks me harder, deeper, banging into me, our breathing growing heavier, mixing with the sounds of our bodies meeting and the bed hitting the wall with each of his powerful thrusts.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Come in me, Suguru. Do it. Fill me with your cum.” I moan and groan, gasp when he hits me once again. Shit. Right there, oh, yeah…that sends me over the edge, sends me flying high and screaming his name while my pussy and ass clamp down, milk and spasm. God, what I wouldn’t give to have my pussy filled at the same time. “Yes, god, yes…”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Fuck, Y/n. Baby…”

⠀⠀ ⠀He’s jerking against me, fingers digging into my hips, probably leaving bruises behind, but I don’t mind. His cock’s growing thicker inside me, jerking, and then the splash of his hot cum is hitting my inner walls, spurting inside me. He rocks with me, our bodies moving as one while more and more of his seed comes out of his dick and into me.

⠀⠀ ⠀Slowly, by moments, we calm, our breathing returning to normal, and then Suguru slumps to the side, bringing me with him, his cock still sheathed in my ass. He kisses the back of my neck, so tender and sweet. “Oh, baby. That was…”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Mmm-hmm.” I wiggle against him, his dick slowly softening inside me. I can still feel the stretch and heat of him, his cum dribbling from my hole.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Stay here, baby.” He eases from my back passage and I whimper, reach back for him, but he’s already gone. I watch while he pads naked to the bathroom and returns moments later with two washcloths. He reaches for me, but I hold out my hand. “Stop it. Let me take care of you.”

⠀⠀ ⠀He presses a quick kiss on my shoulder and nudges my hand away, taking care of cleaning me up, wiping away the evidence of his pleasure. Then, after he’s done with me, he does the same to himself.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Pain in my ass, Suguru,” I grumble, not really meaning it, but it’s what we do. We argue about how annoying we are to each other.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Only if you ask nicely,” he replies.

⠀⠀ ⠀I snort.

⠀⠀ ⠀“You were begging, and not too long ago.” He snuggles behind me, his cock nestling along the crack of my ass, arms draped over me. “I believe it was something along the lines of ‘give me your big dick. Fuck me hard. Make me scream.’ But I could be wrong.” I look over my shoulder and stick my tongue out at him. “You’re a asshole.” He raises a single brow. “That’s what you’ve got? ‘You’re a asshole?’”

⠀⠀ ⠀I narrow my eyes and glare at him.

⠀⠀ ⠀“It’s okay, baby, I’ll take that. I’ll also take you.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“What’re you talking about?”

⠀⠀ ⠀He scrapes his teeth along my shoulder, nibbles my skin. “I’m keeping you.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“You can’t keep me! I’m my own wo—”

⠀⠀ ⠀He silences me with a kiss. And it’s almost enough to make me lose my “mad.” Almost. “Hush. You are your own woman, but now, you’re also mine. Don’t worry. You can still hang out with your bitch. You just won’t be picking up men anymore. I’m your man now.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“What?” My mouth opens wide in surprise. “You did not just call my friends bitch!” I get another kiss, but this time, while he shifts me to my back and thrusts into my pussy again. His cock’s hard and thick, filling me, a shot of ecstasy spreading from my pussy.

⠀⠀ ⠀“I did. And I am your man.” He withdraws and eases forward, nice and gentle. “No one else is fucking this pussy. I’ve ruined you, haven’t I? Say it.” He pulls out, pushes back in. “Say it, baby.” He nibbles my lower lip, rains kisses along my jaw and tugs on my earlobe with his teeth. “Say it,” he whispers, licking the shell of my ear.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Fuck, Suguru. You’re my man.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Your brother.”

⠀⠀ ⠀God, this is so slow and sweet… Feels so damn good I’m gonna come again. Come all over his cock. “My brother.”

⠀⠀ ⠀“Such a hot woman. My little sis. And I’m your brother.”

⠀⠀ ⠀He thrusts home, grinds his hips against me, rubbing my clit just right and yanking a scream from me. “My brother!”

⠀⠀ ⠀I throw my head back, arching and yelling, pleasure bursting through me as I find my release once again. It’s not as strong as before, but deeper, more meaningful. ‘Cause it’s my man, my big bro doing this for me, and not some quick fuck I’ve picked up. “That’s it, baby. Gonna come in this sweet pussy.” He’s breathing heavy again, increasing his pace a little, thrusting harder.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Come in my cunt, Suguru. Fill me up. Give it to me.” I claw his back, run my nails along his spine and dig my heels into his ass checks, pull him into me with more force.

⠀⠀ ⠀“Fuck. Baby…” Then he’s there, coming in me, dick swelling, jerking inside my heat, and spurt after spurt of his cum fills my pussy. He jerks—once, twice, three times before he slumps over me, body shaking, tremors traveling through him with every breath.

⠀⠀ ⠀I stroke his back, soothe him while he catches his breath.

⠀⠀ ⠀He really is a good man. And as long as he fucks me like this every day, I figure I can handle having him as mine.

⠀⠀ ⠀Happy Birthday to me.

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artyandink · 8 days ago

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐱𝐲𝐳 1

SUMMARY: You’re the first female president of the USA, having won the 2014 elections against Amara Shurley by a landslide. Now that you were a symbol of feminism, reform and a better country, it meant that there were a lot more assassination attempts bound to be on your head. For that, you needed a personal bodyguard, so you had to pick right. And you picked right in convicted ex-hitman Dean Winchester. Right?

TW: assassination attempts, ex-hitman!Dean, POTUS!reader, politics!au, politics, murder, gunfire, boss reader, angst, major sexual tension between reader and Dean but also romantic tension cause we love that, slow/quick burn, y’all will have to figure that out

A/N: In honour of our queen Kamala Harris, who didn’t win the 2024 elections, so I give you what could’ve been

NOW PLAYING: Power by Little Mix

office fever

God, the wait was killing you.

You were sitting in a bar, hoping that when the results of the final poll came you were drunk enough that you’d cheer and scream like a madwoman to counteract the inevitable news that you’d lose the 2014 presidential elections to your only eligible opponent, Amara Shurley. Either way, you both had incredibly good future legislations and laws, and whoever was elected there’d be a woman as the President for the first time, which was good. Really good.

“Come on, babes, cheer up!” Stephanie, one of your two best friends, drawled, checking her manicured nails while absent-mindedly sipping on a Long Island Iced Tea like it was merely water, but that was Steph O’Donnell for you, plain and simple. Eh, she was a bit nails-obsessed, but you loved her anyway for it, she did always look immaculate.

Bella, your other, redhead best friend, sighed and smacked Steph upside her blonde head, earning a gasp at the potentially ruined heatless curls (no, they weren’t ruined, she’s just being dramatic). “Maybe you just need to get less alcohol in your system.” She said pointedly, plucking the vodka shot out of your fingers.

“Bels, if anything, she needs more.” Steph pointed out after checking if her hair wasn’t frizzed up in a pocket mirror. “If she wins, it just means she’s capable of partying harder.”

Bella sighed and rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a small laugh, tsking internally at the notion. “She needs to remain sober for when she gets the results, and she’s going to win.” Bella turned to you with a sparkling smile and took your hand, squeezing it. “We’re here for you, girl. Sure, it’s totally possible that the Amara Shurley woman could win the election — she’s older — but if the country’s not stupid, then you’ll be the next POTUS.”

“I’m not sure whether to feel better or worse.” You playfully rolled your eyes, but let the vodka shot go and gestured to the bartender with a resigned sigh. Yeah, you could go without alcohol for tonight. “But ok. One mocktail, and surprise me with it. Cheers.” You looked to Bella with raised eyebrows, tipping your head slightly. “So, what if I lose the election?”

Bella tutted, and Steph looked up from her nails in shock— damn, that’s how you knew you were in deep shit. “Baby girl, you better get that thinking out of your head right now.” Steph gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in shock. “You are an icon for a feminist nation— a non-toxic feminist nation. If people don’t vote for you, I’m gonna kill those who didn’t, those who did can live.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Steph, no—”

“Yes—”

A loud squeal from Bella distracted both of you and almost made Steph spill the Cosmo that matched her nails and also made her shoot a you bitch look that she really didn’t mean, but then Bella started flapping her hands and making squealing and unintelligible, Brittany from Alvin and the Chipmunk-esque sounds that made you and Steph share a look. “You ok, Bels?” You asked in severe mild concern, while Steph just looked either repulsed or amused.

“Are you having a stroke?” Steph continued, checking for any signs of maybe a heart attack or an ice cube lodged down her throat so her speech becomes little whistles.

“Do you smell toast?” You waved a hand in front of your nose, but then her phone was shoved in front of your face so the screen and everything went blurry, not to mention the sting of the light on your eyes— shit, that burned until your retinas. Grabbing the phone from her, you held it at a distance and squinted (“grandma”, said Steph) but then saw the headline.

2014 PRESIDENTIAL ELECTIONS, FINAL POLL RESULTS

Then you scrolled down, with bated breath and clutching Bella’s hand like you wanted to rip it off, and you took a shaky look at the numbers.

AMARA SHURLEY — 36%

That means you got… 64% of the vote, now that you did the math. Holy shit. “Holy shit!” You gasped, letting out a Bella-reminiscent squeal just as Steph did, and you were smothered by two heavily-perfumed hugs, the wind knocked out of you, but did that matter? No.

You were the President. The first female President. POTUS. The youngest ever elected too, at 35.

Holy fuck, holy shit, holy crap. This was the most beautiful day of your life, beside the day you met Bella and Steph, that day was important. “You’re POTUS.” Steph grinned, waving for, like, six whiskeys for all of you to down.

“You’re POTUS, baby girl.” Bella giggled, squeezing your shoulders and then spinning around on her bar stool, pointing obviously to you and yelling “POTUS!”, earning a round of cheers and applause from the patrons that made you bury your face in your hands.

But you did it with a grin. You were the President.

Honestly, being the President was exhilarating, cause that meant you got to make real change, it was incredible. Your new security team had fended off the paparazzi from smothering you Bella and Steph style except more annoying as you were escorted into the White House, a woman only a little younger than you waiting with an eager grin and a clipboard hugged to her chest.

“Welcome to the White House, Madam President.” She grinned, holding out her hand nervously then retracting it— she didn’t know what new bosses wanted, alright? “I’m Becky Rosen, I’ll be your assistant. Anything you need, I’ll handle it. Do you want anything? Tea, coffee, water, a martini— if you want a martini I’ll have the barman get one ready and waiting for you in the Oval Office…”

During that time she’d been rambling you’d examined Becky, getting a feel for what she was like. Thank God your assistant was a woman also and she seemed like good fun, lively spirit, definitely someone who won’t make your schedule sound boring. But she looked overworked and tired, maybe from the last president— that’d be Raphael Easton, right? Yeah.

“Two things,” you started as you were walking through the halls to the Oval Office, “do you have the files for personal bodyguard applicants that I can cycle through before making official speeches?”

“They’re all on your desk, ma’am.” Becky answered almost immediately— damn, she was rather eager, and happy with her job, clearly, but also had dark circles and eye bags that made something twinge in you. It didn’t sit right.

You nodded, then gave her a warm smile, gently taking the clipboard. “How ‘bout you take the day off, yeah? It’s only my first day, I don’t need anything yet, and I can get the applicants from…” You looked through the labels on the file: FBI, CIA, private agencies, ADX Supermax— ADX Supermax?

“What’s wrong, ma’am?” Becky asked, seeing the way your words trailed off upon seeing the file amid all the other incredibly professional outlets for protection, an applicant from the ADX. Well, you did say unorthodox applicants can apply if they wanted to, you just didn’t expect a dude in prison to put his file through.

Oh. Upon opening it, it was just a letter.

You looked up to Becky, biting your lip in thought, cause if this guy’s in the Supermax, he’s prolific.

“Do I have a direct line to the director of the FBI?”

ADX Florence was a fortress, a high-tech prison designed to keep America’s most dangerous criminals sealed away from the world. It wasn’t a place where hope grew. Dean Winchester, prisoner 11347-7, wasn’t the kind of guy to expect hope anyway. A hitman with a list of bodies long enough to fill a small town cemetery, he had resigned himself to spending the rest of his days in this tomb of concrete and steel.

It wasn’t regret that gnawed at him in the sterile silence of his cell. Regret wasn’t his style. He’d made his choices, taken his hits, and lived by the only code he knew: survival. But that didn’t mean he liked being locked away. Dean had always been a man who thrived on freedom—the smell of asphalt under the Impala’s tires, the weight of a weapon he knew as intimately as his own heartbeat, the thrill of a job well done.

Now, his days were measured in three meals delivered through a slot and the endless monotony of isolation. Until that morning in 2008 when the guard, a surly guy Dean called Mustache, slid a newspaper into his cell along with the breakfast tray.

Dean didn’t read newspapers often. What was the point? The world moved on without him. But that day, boredom got the better of him. He skimmed headlines about wars, scandals, and the economy’s nosedive. Nothing he hadn’t expected. Then his eyes landed on something that made him sit up straighter on the cot.

“Wanted: Elite Personal Security for First Female President. Apply Now.”

The ad stood out like a neon sign in a desert. Beneath the bold letters was a glossy image of the President standing in front of the White House, flanked by Secret Service agents. The text outlined the need for a personal bodyguard—someone with impeccable skills, discretion, and a willingness to take a bullet if necessary. Experience required. Unorthodox candidates welcome.

Dean read it twice, then a third time, the words stirring something he hadn’t felt in years. It wasn’t quite hope, but it was close.

ADX Supermax wasn’t the kind of place where people left easily. But this ad…this ad was a door, cracked open just wide enough for someone like him to slip through.

“Unorthodox candidates,” he muttered, smirking. “Guess I qualify.”

By lunchtime, Dean had a plan. It wasn’t perfect—nothing he did ever was—but it was a shot, and that was more than he usually got in this place.

He spent hours staring at the blank sheet of paper he’d salvaged from a previous legal memo. Writing wasn’t his strong suit. Hell, if he’d been good at words, maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in the killing business in the first place. But this wasn’t about flowery language. It was about convincing someone that a convicted hitman could be trusted with the life of the most powerful person in the country.

Dean leaned over the small desk bolted to the wall of his cell, chewing the end of his pen as he started to scribble.

To Madam President,

I am writing to express my interest in the position of personal security for the President. I realize my application may raise questions, given my current circumstances, but I ask for your consideration based on my unique qualifications.

Before my incarceration, I was highly skilled in tactical operations, surveillance, and neutralising high-level targets. My ability to assess danger and act decisively has been tested in some of the most dangerous environments.

Though I am serving time for my past actions, I believe in redemption. This position represents an opportunity for me to use my skills for a greater purpose. I have spent my years here reflecting on my choices, and I am prepared to dedicate my life to protecting someone who stands for hope and progress in this country.

Thank you for your time and consideration. I am available for an interview at your convenience.

Sincerely, Dean Winchester

He read over the letter a dozen times, making minor adjustments. It was rough, sure, but it was honest. And honesty was something he didn’t traffic in often, neither were fancy words, and he used a lot of them.

By the time he was done, his hand ached, and the paper was smudged from his grip. He folded it carefully and tucked it into the pocket of his jumpsuit.

The next step was trickier.

Dean’s lawyer, a wiry man named Feldman who’d been paid off by some shadowy client years ago to keep an eye on him, didn’t usually show up unless Dean demanded it. This time, Dean played the card of “urgent legal matter.” When Feldman arrived, looking mildly annoyed but curious, Dean slid the letter across the table during their monitored meeting.

“You want me to…submit this?” Feldman asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean nodded. “Straight to the President’s office. No detours, no ‘I’ll get to it later.’ This is priority one.”

Feldman stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “You realize this is insane, right? You’re in here for life. They’re not going to let you out just because you can write a heartfelt letter.”

“They might if they’re desperate enough,” Dean countered. “And that ad says they’re looking for someone who can do the job, not someone who looks good on paper. I can do the job.”

Feldman sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “And if I say no?”

Dean’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You won’t. You owe me.”

Feldman muttered something under his breath but pocketed the letter. “You’re lucky I like long shots.”

Weeks passed. Dean didn’t hear anything, and for a while, he wondered if Feldman had tossed the letter in the nearest trash can. But then, one morning, Mustache appeared at his cell with an unreadable expression.

“You’ve got a visitor,” he said gruffly.

Dean frowned. “Who?”

“Didn’t say. Get up.”

Visitors were rare, especially unannounced ones. Dean followed Mustache down the cold, narrow corridors, his curiosity growing. When he reached the visitor room, his breath caught.

The woman sitting on the other side of the plexiglass partition was dressed in a crisp suit, her posture radiating authority. She wasn’t Feldman, and she definitely wasn’t a typical visitor.

Dean picked up the phone on his side of the glass.

“Mr. Winchester,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “I’m here on behalf of the President.”

He leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Guess you got my letter.”

Her expression didn’t change. “We did. It was…unconventional.”

“That’s me in a nutshell.”

She glanced at a folder on the table in front of her. “Your record is extensive. Multiple charges of murder-for-hire, conspiracy, weapons trafficking…” She looked up, her sharp eyes locking onto his. “Why should we trust you?”

Dean leaned forward, his tone serious. “Because I know what I’m doing. You want someone who’ll lay down their life for the President? Someone who’ll see the threats before anyone else does? That’s me. I’ve been on both sides of this game. I know how killers think because I’ve been one. And if you give me this chance, I’ll prove that I’m more than what’s in that file.”

The woman studied him for a long moment before standing. “We’ll be in touch.”

Dean hung up the phone, watching her leave with a mixture of hope and disbelief. For the first time in years, it felt like the world outside ADX Supermax wasn’t as far away as it seemed.

You’d been running interviews for a bodyguard for about a week now, and you’d only started them once Becky had gotten a good rest, as well as the rest of the staff at the White House so they could spend good time with their families. First few weeks of presidency were busy ones, so you wanted your employees to have some time for themselves before anything happened.

Nobody seemed suitable to you, even though you’d been presented with the best FBI, CIA and private outlet’s security detail they had, they’d each and all failed your every attempt to make them seem credible, you didn’t want anyone like that. Tabloids had already gotten to smearing your name regarding this, but you were more concerned with your final applicant.

Dean Winchester.

You’d asked the FBI to send over every file they had on him, and the list was — you hated to say it — extensive. Many assassinations of high and low-level targets, and he was credited with over 100 assassinations in the past two years— you had your doubts about this guy, the director of the FBI had said he was in there for a reason.

You’d find out if he was unhinged, or just a normal man.

Well, Dean had been escorted as covertly as possible with a bunch of military and secret service agents, which didn’t make sense as his hands were shackled to his feet. The only way he’d be getting out of these chains was if he was a magician, and he wasn’t, just incredibly good at marksmanship and fighting, thank John for that.

“Alright, alright.” He scoffed, almost tripping out of the car as he was practically shoved up the steps by the agents by his head. “I’m moving, I’m moving, Jesus fuck, you ladies are uptight.” He got to the door of the White House, and holy shit, he was really here. He got let in, hearing a Secret Service agent blabbing in his ear.

“Any funny business, 353, and we’re sending you straight back. You’re gonna address Madam President with respect, no cheek—” Ugh, the sound of his voice was grating, but all Dean could do was let out a terse nod as he was led to the door of the Oval Office and led inside. He stepped in, glaring at the service agent who had been yapping about decorum. Then, suddenly—

“Oi! Hey, hey!” A woman’s voice snapped, and he looked up from his shackles to see you, and boy, were you young for a president. You had to be his age, right? Yeah, and you were surprisingly gorgeous for a POTUS, but the way you’d stood up with a loud chair screech from your desk, snapped your fingers and pointing at Dean’s shackles with a livid expression, he knew the agents were in deep shit.

“The fuck is this?” You gestured to the heavy shackles on Dean’s wrists and ankles— they were quite heavy and uncomfortable, now that he paid attention to it, but he was more focused on how much of a little Spitfire you were. Young, but you were snapping at these middle-aged men as if they were 5 year old children. “You might as well put a chain around his neck, for God’s sake— whichever of you has the key, take those things off and leave my office, if he kills me, fine, just have Amara take my place, she’ll do a damn good job as well.”

The service agents stood there, stunned, and then a stern look from you — “Damn,” Dean muttered — got the agent next to Dean to shove the key in the lock to his wrists and ankles, letting the chains fall free, and they were promptly carried out. You sighed, returning to your desk, running a hand through your hair.

“I am so sorry about that, Mr Winchester, I’ve just always found those chains really inhumane.” You rushed the sentence, gesturing to your desk in front of you and sipping your coffee to calm down. Honestly, not your best option, it probably made you more jittery.

Dean didn’t argue, he didn’t want to get scolded, just made his way to the desk, grey jumpsuit — he was in protective custody in prison — rustling with every step until he sat down on the irresistibly comfy chair, cause wow, prison chairs were hard and low standard.

His ass felt like it was in heaven right now.

“No problem, ma’am, I see the point. Not exactly the cleanest slate.” He didn’t think it was wise to make a joke of how he’d assassinated people for hire, but it made you laugh, so maybe that was good going. Who knows? “And call me Dean.”

“I see that.” You smiled, then gestured to Dean with a warm smile, not something he was used to unless it was the smiles of his mom that he barely remembered. Otherwise it was either hungry, lustful smiles of desperate women and cunning smiles of ruthless businessmen and mafia bosses. “So, Dean, before we get started, would you like anything? Tea, coffee, water, beer, whiskey— one candidate asked for straight vodka. He’s not getting the job.” Damn. The new POTUS was cool.

“Water would be great.” Dean would have a drop of whiskey, but he wanted to make a good impression and hydrate himself with something other than low-quality prison water. So, when you passed him the water, he downed the tall glass in three gulps, but then paused when he saw you watching.

Then he swallowed. Shit.

But you weren’t judging him, you seemed understanding, that yes, prison water probably tasted like rat piss, so he finished the rest of the glass and wiped his hand with the back of his mouth. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologise. Prison must be really rough, treat yourself.” You waved him off, shaking your head, then peered through his file. Rather interesting family background, how did he turn out that way? “Says here that your father’s a Marine Corporal veteran, thanks for his service, and your brother’s a prosecution lawyer that graduated from Stanford Law. Impressive.” You looked up at him, thumb playing with the ring on your middle finger, eyes focused on the paper.

Dean couldn’t help but note that you were beautiful. Not objectively, just factually beautiful. He’s not being a perv.

“My brother’s a nerd.” Dean stated with a smile as you talked about his family, he didn’t blame them, he wasn’t a bookworm, he wasn’t as smart as his little brother in that aspect, Sam was all about studying and being the good kid.

"Yeah, my brother used to say I was a nerd, now look at me." You chuckled, then nodded in acknowledgement. "You, however, you graduated just on the mark, no honours, didn't go to college and transactions show you started as a hitman when you were 20." You paused for a second, cause that was what you couldn’t put your finger on. "But the equal amounts of money went to Stanford in deposits. Why?"

Dean knew he was gonna be interrogated by the new President, that’s a given, and he made sure to prepare himself for the whole psychological evaluation of himself. His expression remained unreadable, only slightly surprised by how quickly you put together that he’d been paying for his brother’s college.

“He’s family. Sammy’s a good kid, he deserves to get away from this life.” Dean answered, it was a simple answer. It didn’t really dig deep into his past or his true relationships with his family.

Well, all you had to know was that his dad was paranoid after returning from deployment and taught him how to shoot like James fucking Bond and Sammy too, but Sam had left for college while Dean had nothing he could do for himself.

"Mhm." You hummed, looking through the rest of it. "Now my guys are finding that in the years since your brother left college, money you've earned from assassinations ordered by high level clients — that are now behind bars — has been wired to a rehab centre down in Delaware. I looked into it, and I found out your father's staying there. None of that money's going to you." Your voice wasn't judging. You instead sounded understanding.

The only reason why Dean wasn’t surprised or shocked by the fact that you knew this was the fact that you were the President. He should’ve guessed. He smiled slightly as you remained understanding about the whole situation though, most other politicians would’ve seen this as a chance to blackmail and threaten him.

“Yeah, my dad’s got severe PTSD. It’s the only good one nearby.” He explained as he crossed his arms. It would be hard to find a rehab centre that accepted his dad given the whole violent record he had.

You couldn’t help but feel sympathy at that. Dean’s juvenile record wasn’t the cleanest, so no shops would’ve hired him so he could make that money, only black ops would. It was strange, and you’d be under fire by the media if you voiced it, but you saw his struggle. “You did it for your family.” You were surprised at how softly you said that.

“Family don’t end in blood, ma’am.” Dean replied, honestly, and you were hit where it hurt by that statement. You were expecting a cold-hearted killer, not a man trying to do right by his post-traumatic father and little brother. “Not if I’m still breathin’. Sammy’s got a good life, a wife, by what I’ve heard. Don’t wanna burden him with all that shit, a-and I haven’t talked to him in a few years. My boy.” He cleared his throat to not get too emotional.

You had to do that too, just to be clear.

“I’m sorry.” But that wouldn’t just fix everything, so you took a moment to let that hang in order to give him some time. “Only important question I’m gonna ask. Hypothetically, we’re under fire at one of my events. You’ve gotten me to safety, and I give you the order to do the same for civilians. Do you do it?”

Dean took in the question, eyebrow raised slightly as he leaned forward, elbows resting on the table as he studied you. That was a odd but interesting question. This was a job interview for real, it seems.

But this answer was simple.

“Civilians. I’d get the innocents out first.” He said, there wasn’t even a hint of hesitation in his voice. Civilians, innocent people will always come first before anything and anyone. He’d made sure when performing hits that no civilians, women, fathers, men, mothers, children— were safely out of the way before taking a shot. If they weren’t, he refused. He wasn’t risking it.

He was expecting you to refuse him on the spot, but instead two words came out that almost made him go “holy shit”.

“You’re hired.”

You’re. Hired. He could die.

“I-I’m sorry, Madam President, I’m what?” He practically gasped, hands clutching the arms of his seat, watching you take out some already prepared parole papers and walking to the door in your heels, handing the file to one of the service agents.

“Hired.” You said simply, a shrug and a smile offered as you walked to the desk. Fucking hell, Dean had never seen a stranger president in his life. “Your parole is being passed effective immediately, and I wanna get you in touch with my stylist and wardrobe guy so we can get you some new and frankly more comfortable clothes. You’ll be staying here, at the White House, you’ll have full access to my staff for anything you might need, but most importantly, you need to call your family.” You tapped your landline that you had prepared on the desk with a small, encouraging smile. “I have Sam’s number and the rehab centre’s number both in your directory file, I’ll give you some time to talk rather than waiting like a creep.”

As you walked out, Dean couldn’t believe his ears. He was now the President’s bodyguard, he got to live in luxury, no doubt there was a large paycheck and he got to call Sammy again. His Sammy, oh, holy shit.

His hand shook as he reached for the landline, opening the file and there it was, Sam’s number, and it’d changed since he got put in prison a good six months ago. His fingers fumbled, clumsily dialling the number and waiting a moment as the dial tone stopped and the ringing shook his eardrum. Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up, please pick up—

“Hello?” Dean’s heart broke upon hearing Sam’s voice again, and he took a shaky breath. Get a grip, Winchester, it’s only your little brother, the man you raised your while life.

“Bitch.” His voice sounded like he’d smoked cigarettes, and he’d quit that habit after high school, but all he could hear was the dead silence of realisation on the other side.

“Jerk.”

The motorcade pulled up to the white-brick colonial house just as the late afternoon sun began to dip behind the row of oaks lining the driveway. You leaned back in your seat, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. For months now, your life had been a whirlwind of campaign rallies, debates, and sleepless nights in cramped hotels. It all felt surreal. You were the President of the United States. Yet, somehow, coming home to this house—the one you’d grown up in—was what made it all feel real.

Secret Service agents stepped out first, scanning the quiet suburban neighborhood for threats. You glanced out the tinted window, catching a glimpse of the familiar front porch where your father had painted the railing a deep blue years ago. The door creaked open, and a small figure darted out onto the lawn before anyone could stop him.

“Austin!”

The call came from Eden, your sister-in-law, who appeared a moment later, balancing baby Wyatt on her hip. She looked harried but happy, waving at you from the porch. Austin, however, was already halfway to the car, his untied sneakers slapping against the pavement.

You smiled despite yourself. Rolling down the window, you called out, “Hold on, buddy, let them do their job.”

The boy skidded to a stop as one of the agents gently but firmly intercepted him, patting him on the shoulder and guiding him back toward the porch. Austin complied, but his excitement was evident in every bouncing step.

By the time you exited the car, your father, Mark, was standing on the porch steps, arms crossed but with a wide grin splitting his face. “There she is,” he said, his voice booming with pride. “Madame President.”

You felt your cheeks flush as you climbed the steps. “Dad, don’t start.”

“Oh, I’ll start, alright,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug. “My daughter, the leader of the free world! They’re gonna need to expand that Oval Office just to fit my pride.”

“Mark, give her some room to breathe,” your mother, Odette, chided as she stepped outside. She was smaller than you remembered, her hair streaked with more gray than the last time you’d seen her. But her smile was as warm as ever. She held her arms open, and you leaned into her familiar embrace, the scent of lavender and vanilla washing over you.

“It’s good to see you, Mom,” you murmured.

“We’re so proud of you,” she said softly, pulling back to study your face. “But I bet you’re exhausted.”

You nodded, glancing over her shoulder to see your older brother Ryan descending the stairs, a grin on his face. “Well, well, look who decided to come back down to earth,” he teased, reaching out to clap you on the shoulder.

“Someone’s gotta keep you grounded,” you shot back, the familiar rhythm of sibling banter falling into place as though no time had passed.

Eden appeared beside him, Wyatt still on her hip. She offered you a smile, and you leaned in to kiss her cheek. “How’s this little guy doing?” you asked, reaching out to tickle Wyatt’s chin. The baby let out a squeal of laughter, his chubby arms flailing.

“He’s teething,” Eden said with a weary smile. “So, you know…living the dream.”

Austin, who had been hovering impatiently at the edge of the group, finally couldn’t contain himself. “Auntie!” he shouted, throwing his arms around your waist.

“Hey, kiddo,” you said, ruffling his hair. “What’s new?”

“I got an A on my science project!” he said, looking up at you with bright eyes.

“That’s great!” you said. “What was the project?”

“Volcanoes,” he said, puffing out his chest. “Dad helped me with the lava.”

Ryan coughed. “Helped is a strong word. He mostly just told me what to do.”

“That’s because you were doing it wrong!” Austin protested, and the group dissolved into laughter.

Inside, the house was exactly as you remembered it. The worn hardwood floors creaked under your feet, and the faint scent of your mother’s cooking lingered in the air. The walls were covered with family photos—some old, some new—including one of you on election night, surrounded by your team, your face frozen in an expression of shock and joy.

Dinner was already laid out on the long wooden table in the dining room. A roast chicken sat in the center, surrounded by bowls of mashed potatoes, green beans, and your mother’s famous macaroni casserole. It was a far cry from the catered meals you’d been eating on the campaign trail, and your stomach growled in anticipation.

“Let’s eat before it gets cold,” Odette said, ushering everyone to their seats.

You took your usual spot, sandwiched between Austin and your father, while Ryan carved the chicken. Plates were passed around, and soon the room was filled with the clatter of silverware and the hum of conversation.

Mark raised his glass of water. “A toast,” he said, his voice cutting through the din. “To my daughter. The first woman to sit in the Oval Office. You’ve made us all so proud.”

“Here, here!” Ryan chimed in, lifting his own glass.

You felt a lump rise in your throat as you clinked glasses with everyone around the table. For a moment, the weight of your responsibilities seemed to lift, replaced by the simple joy of being surrounded by the people who had always believed in you.

After dinner, you helped your mother clear the table, despite her protests. “You’re the President now,” she said, swatting your hands away from the plates. “You don’t need to be doing dishes.”

“Maybe not,” you said, grinning. “But I don’t think I’ve outgrown being your daughter.”

She relented, shaking her head with a fond smile, and the two of you worked side by side in comfortable silence. When the last dish was put away, you found yourself drawn to the living room, where the rest of the family had gathered.

Ryan was sprawled on the couch, flipping through a photo album with Austin perched beside him. Eden sat in the armchair, rocking Wyatt to sleep, while Mark stood by the fireplace, nursing a cup of coffee.

You sank into the armchair opposite Eden, your eyes drawn to the flickering flames in the hearth. “It feels good to be home,” you said softly.

Mark looked over at you, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve got a hell of a road ahead of you, kid,” he said. “But don’t forget—you’ve got us. We’re here for you, no matter what.”

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words settle in your chest. “I know,” you said. “And I’m going to need that. All of it.”

Ryan looked up from the photo album, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Think we’ll get to visit the White House? Austin’s dying to see the bowling alley.”

Austin’s head snapped up. “There’s a bowling alley?”

You laughed. “There is. And yeah, you’ll all come visit. But I can’t promise I’ll have much time for bowling.”

“Why not?” Austin asked, his brow furrowing. “You’re the President. Can’t you just…make time?”

The simplicity of his question made you smile. “It’s a little more complicated than that, buddy,” you said. “But I’ll do my best.”

Later that night, after the house had quieted and everyone had gone to bed, you found yourself standing in the backyard. The air was crisp and cool, and the stars above were brighter than you remembered. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the enormity of your new role settle over you like a heavy cloak.

The back door creaked open, and Mark stepped outside, a blanket draped over his shoulders. He joined you on the porch, handing you a steaming mug of tea.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Too much on my mind.”

Mark nodded, staring out at the dark yard. “It’s a big job,” he said. “But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

“I hope so,” you said quietly.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. “You’ve got what it takes,” he said. “And you’ve got us. Don’t forget that.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with gratitude. “Thanks, Dad.”

He smiled, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. “Come on,” he said, gesturing toward the house. “You’ve got a long day ahead of you tomorrow. Let’s get some sleep.”

As you followed him inside, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in months. No matter how hard the road ahead might be, you knew you wouldn’t be walking it alone.

The Oval Office was as grand as you’d imagined—perhaps even more so. Its high, curved ceilings and rich, historic decor exuded authority, yet the warmth of the afternoon sunlight filtering through the tall windows softened the edges, giving the room an almost serene quality.

You sat at the Resolute Desk, a stack of documents waiting for your signature. Each one bore the weight of history. Education reforms. Trade agreements. Environmental policies. Every flick of your pen carried consequences that rippled far beyond the iconic walls of this room.

Across the room, Becky, your ever-efficient assistant, was perched on the edge of one of the armchairs, tablet in hand. “After this meeting with the education committee, you’ve got a fifteen-minute break before the press briefing,” she said, scrolling rapidly through the day’s schedule. “Then at three, there’s the Cabinet discussion on infrastructure. And don’t forget the call with the German Chancellor at four.”

“Got it,” you replied, signing your name with a practiced flourish. “Anything else?”

Becky hesitated, glancing at her screen. “Oh, and your new personal bodyguard will be arriving shortly. Dean Winchester.”

You kept your expression neutral, though you’d been briefed extensively on this particular appointment. A former hitman, Dean’s resume wasn’t exactly typical for someone tasked with protecting the President. But his unconventional background—and the skillset that came with it—was exactly why he’d been chosen.

“Right,” you said, setting your pen down. “I’ve read his file. Has he been through security clearance?”

“Thoroughly vetted,” Becky assured you. “And cleared. He should be here any moment.”

You nodded, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Let’s hope he lives up to the hype.”

Just as Becky opened her mouth to reply, the door opened.

You looked up, and the words you were about to say caught in your throat.

Dean Winchester strode into the room with the kind of presence that made people stop and take notice. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with a casual confidence that hinted at years of facing danger head-on. He wore a dark gray suit that was tailored just enough to highlight his powerful frame but not so tight as to make him look polished or delicate. The crisp white shirt underneath contrasted against his tanned skin, and his black tie was slightly loosened, as if he’d deliberately left it that way.

Despite the formal attire, there was an undeniable ruggedness about him. His short, tousled hair was just slightly too messy to be regulation, and the shadow of stubble along his jaw added an edge that no amount of tailoring could hide. His green eyes, sharp and assessing, swept the room before landing on you.

You found yourself momentarily distracted by the way the suit accentuated his broad chest and tapered waist. It was a rare thing for someone to wear something so formal yet exude the kind of raw, unrefined masculinity that Dean seemed to embody.

“Madame President,” he said, his voice low and gravelly as he stopped a respectful distance from your desk.

You forced yourself to refocus, clearing your throat as you rose from your seat. “Mr. Winchester.” You allowed yourself a small smile, noting the way his gaze remained steady but professional. “You clean up well.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Thanks. I aim to please.”

Becky glanced between the two of you before standing. “I’ll step out and make sure everything’s ready for the committee meeting,” she said, gathering her tablet.

“Thanks, Becky,” you said, watching her leave before turning back to Dean.

For a moment, the room felt smaller. His presence was magnetic, and you couldn’t help but take him in once more, your gaze lingering on the way his shoulders filled out the suit jacket, the way his long fingers rested casually at his sides, the way they gripped his chair as he sat down. You snapped your attention back to his face before he could notice.

Dean leaned back slightly in the chair, taking in the sight of you as you scanned your schedule on the tablet in front of you. The soft lighting of the Oval Office seemed to highlight the sharp lines of your features, and the way you carried yourself—confident, composed, entirely in command—struck him in a way he hadn’t expected.

He’d done his research, of course. He knew your career milestones, your policies, even a few of your personal quirks. But seeing you in person was different. The photographs didn’t do you justice.

As you spoke, your voice clear and firm, Dean found himself watching the curve of your lips, the subtle tilt of your head when you emphasized a point. You had a presence that filled the room, a quiet strength that made it impossible to look away.

“Your main job,” you were saying, “is to ensure my safety, both here and when I travel. You’ll coordinate with the Secret Service, but your focus will be on close-range protection. You’ll accompany me to all public appearances, meetings, and events.”

Dean nodded, forcing himself to focus on your words rather than the way your blouse fit perfectly beneath your blazer. “Understood. Anything specific I should know about your routine?”

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “It varies. I keep a tight schedule, but unexpected situations come up all the time. You’ll need to be adaptable.”

“I’m good at that,” Dean said, his tone confident but not cocky.

“Good.” You swiped at the tablet, then set it down on the desk. “I’ve read your file. Your skillset is…impressive.”

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “That’s one way to put it.”

You arched an eyebrow, your lips curving into a wry smile. “I’d call it unconventional, but that seems to be exactly what I need.”

Dean’s gaze flicked over you again, this time lingering on the curve of your jawline, the way your fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the desk. He’d worked with plenty of high-profile people before, but you were in a league of your own.

“Anything else I should be aware of?” he asked, his voice low.

You tilted your head, considering him for a moment. “You’re going to see me at my best and my worst,” you said plainly. “Long hours, high stress, bad days, good days. It comes with the territory.”

Dean nodded. “I’m here to do my job, ma’am. Whatever it takes.”

Something in his tone made you pause, your gaze sharpening as you studied him. “You’ve been in worse situations, haven’t you?”

“Let’s just say I’m no stranger to high stakes,” he replied, his smirk returning.

You leaned back in your chair, satisfied. “Good. I’ll need someone who can keep a cool head under pressure. And someone who doesn’t mind telling me the hard truth when I need to hear it.”

Dean’s smirk widened slightly. “I can handle that.”

The conversation shifted to logistics—your upcoming travel schedule, security protocols, and daily routines. Dean asked a few questions, his tone professional, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was studying you as much as he was listening.

If you noticed the way his eyes dipped to your collarbone when you leaned forward to make a point, or how his gaze lingered on the curve of your wrist as you gestured, you didn’t let on. You were focused, deliberate, every bit the commander-in-chief he’d expected.

When the meeting wrapped up, you stood and extended a hand again. “Welcome aboard, Dean. I look forward to working with you.”

Dean rose, his hand engulfing yours once more. “The pleasure’s mine, ma’am.”

As he turned to leave, you called after him, “And Dean?”

He paused, glancing over his shoulder.

“You really do look good in that suit.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Alone again, you returned to your desk, your mind already shifting to the next task. But for a moment, you allowed yourself a small smile.

It was going to be an interesting partnership.

“Ok, excuse me?” Bella had practically squealed when the door to your bedroom behind you, her and Steph had been shut by Dean, who was now waiting outside to give you some privacy, and thank God those walls were thick enough to hide this conversation. “You didn’t tell us your bodyguard was a Ben Affleck and Brad Pitt combo.”

Steph scoffed, shaking her head. “Girl, no. He’s better than that, he puts Adonis to shame— where’s he been hiding?” They both turned to you expectantly, clearly not aware that your Adonis-transcendent bodyguard was fresh out of the United States Penitentiary, Administrative Maximum Facility. Oh, that’s gonna be a hard pill to swallow, right?

“Prison.” You swallowed, clearing your throat awkwardly upon saying it, cause you weren’t often the bringer of news that a guy like Dean used to be a prolific criminal who kills for money. “ADX Florence. An ex-hitman, to be clear, with over 100 kills in the past two years.”

“So he’s a bad boy.” Bella giggled, clearly not phased, which kind of concerned you with which brain they both were thinking from, and hopefully not the downstairs one. “Even better, oh my god, I was getting worried he’s a goodie.”

Steph raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a sly grin. “Right? Like, you can’t just drop ‘ex-hitman with over 100 kills’ and not expect us to have questions. Or fantasies.”

“Steph!” you choked, glancing toward the door as if Dean could hear through the thick walls.

“What? I’m just saying!” She crossed her arms, leaning back against the bedpost. “Honestly, though? He’s got that whole ‘dark past but reformed bad boy’ thing going for him. You’re living every romance novel heroine’s dream.”

Bella, not to be outdone, clutched at her chest dramatically. “Forget romance novels—I’d climb him like a tree. That man looks like he could bench press me and not even break a sweat.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can we not?”

“We absolutely can,” Bella countered, her voice rising with glee. “Seriously, you’ve got the hottest bodyguard in the country, and you didn’t think we needed to know this? Girl, where’s your sense of sisterhood?”

Steph was nodding in agreement. “Yeah, you’re withholding important information. Like, what’s he like in person? Is he all business, or does he have that smoldering, ‘I could kill you, but I won’t’ energy?”

Your cheeks burned, both from their shameless gushing and the mental image Steph’s words conjured. “He’s…fine. Professional.”

“‘Professional,’ she says,” Bella snorted. “Professional at looking fine as hell, maybe.” She leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “Come on. What’s he like? Does he flirt? Does he give you those ‘I’m secretly in love with you’ stares when you’re not looking?”

You glared at her. “No. Absolutely not. He’s just doing his job.”

“Sure he is,” Steph said with a smirk, clearly not buying it. “But don’t think we didn’t notice the way he looked at you when he shut the door earlier.”

You blinked. “What? He didn’t—”

“Oh, honey,” Bella interrupted, waving her hand dramatically. “He totally did. That man looked at you like you were the last piece of chocolate cake at a birthday party. And don’t even get me started on how he stood. You know, all broody and protective, like some kind of…” She trailed off, searching for the right words.

“Alpha wolf guarding his mate,” Steph supplied helpfully.

“Exactly!” Bella snapped her fingers. “Thank you, Steph. That’s exactly the vibe.”

You groaned again, resisting the urge to bang your head against the nearest wall. “You two need help.”

“What we need,” Steph said, grinning wickedly, “is for you to admit that you’ve at least thought about it. Because if you haven’t, you’re lying.”

“I haven’t!” you protested, a little too quickly.

Bella’s eyes lit up like she’d just won the lottery. “Oh my God, you totally have! Look at you—your ears are turning red.”

“Leave me alone,” you muttered, glaring at the floor.

But they weren’t about to let you off the hook.

“Okay, okay,” Steph said, holding up a hand as if to calm the chaos. “Let’s be serious for a second. He’s obviously gorgeous, and clearly there’s some…tension. But what’s the story? Like, how did you even end up with him as your bodyguard? I feel like there’s a Netflix series waiting to happen here.”

You hesitated, weighing how much to tell them. “It’s…complicated. He was recommended through some very high-level channels. Apparently, he’s the best at what he does.”

“And what he does is kill people,” Bella said, her voice dripping with mock solemnity.

You shot her a look. “Not anymore. He’s reformed. He went through a rigorous vetting process before he was even considered for the position.”

Steph tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “So, he’s done bad things, but now he’s protecting the President of the United States. That’s a redemption arc if I’ve ever heard one.”

Bella sighed wistfully. “And he’s doing it all while looking like a Calvin Klein model who got lost on his way to the shoot.”

“Can we not turn this into a thirst-fest?” you pleaded, though you knew it was a losing battle.

Bella leaned closer, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, sweetie. It’s already a thirst-fest. You’re just in denial.”

The conversation spiraled from there, with Bella and Steph taking turns crafting increasingly absurd fantasies about Dean’s hypothetical love life.

“He probably has a tragic backstory,” Bella said dreamily, lying back on the bed. “Like, maybe he lost the love of his life in some tragic accident, and now he’s sworn to protect others to atone for his past.”

“Or,” Steph countered, “he’s secretly a billionaire who does this for the adrenaline rush. Like, by day he’s your bodyguard, but by night he’s funding orphanages and saving puppies.”

Bella clapped her hands. “Yes! And in his free time, he restores classic cars and writes poetry.”

You stared at them, equal parts amused and horrified. “You two have officially lost it.”

“Or,” Steph said, ignoring you entirely, “he’s secretly in love with you, and this whole bodyguard thing is just an excuse to be close to you.”

Bella gasped, sitting up suddenly. “Steph, that’s it! That’s the one!”

You buried your face in your hands. “I regret ever letting you meet him.”

“Don’t be like that,” Bella said, patting your shoulder. “We’re just saying—you’re sitting on a goldmine of romantic potential here. If you don’t at least consider it, we will.”

“Noted,” you said dryly, standing up and heading for the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do. Unlike you two.”

Bella and Steph exchanged knowing looks as you opened the door to find Dean standing just outside, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.

He straightened slightly when you stepped into the hallway, his eyes meeting yours. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze as you brushed past him.

But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Steph and Bella might have been onto something.

The drive to Sam’s place was smooth, the kind of easy journey Dean Winchester hadn’t experienced in years. Maybe ever. The hum of the Impala’s engine, a comforting growl beneath him, was as close to peace as Dean could imagine. His day off had finally rolled around, and he hadn’t hesitated to decide how he’d spend it.

Sam had settled in a quiet neighborhood outside Washington, D.C., where tree-lined streets and neat, white-picket fences painted a picture of suburban serenity. It was a far cry from the lives they’d led growing up, but Dean couldn’t deny it suited his little brother.

Pulling up to the house, Dean killed the engine and climbed out, adjusting his leather jacket as he took in the sight. The two-story home was modest but inviting, with a tidy lawn and a swing set in the backyard visible through the side gate. He could hear faint laughter—probably from Dean Jr., Sam and Jess’s kid, who, much to Dean’s delight, was his namesake.

Dean’s boots crunched against the gravel path as he approached the front door. Before he could knock, it swung open, and Sam stood there, looking every bit the family man.

“Dean,” Sam greeted, his face lighting up in a grin. “Right on time.”

“Of course,” Dean said, stepping inside. “I’m punctual now. Didn’t you hear? I’ve got a government job.”

Sam chuckled, clapping Dean on the shoulder as he shut the door behind him. “I’m still getting used to the idea.”

Inside, the house was warm and lived-in. Pictures adorned the walls—Jess and Sam on their wedding day, little Dean Jr. blowing out candles on a birthday cake, snapshots of family trips to the beach. The scent of something delicious wafted from the kitchen, and Dean’s stomach growled in response.

“Jess is cooking?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

“She insists,” Sam replied with a shrug. “Says you need a proper meal after all that ‘White House food.’”

Dean smirked. “Tell her I’m not gonna argue with that.”

Jess appeared moments later, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. She was glowing, as she always seemed to be, her blonde hair pulled into a loose ponytail and her smile bright enough to light up the room.

“Dean!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a quick hug. “It’s been too long.”

“Too long,” Dean agreed, glancing over her shoulder. “Where’s the rugrat?”

As if on cue, the sound of small feet thudding down the stairs filled the house. Dean Jr. appeared, his face lighting up when he saw his uncle. The kid was a spitting image of Sam, with floppy brown hair and wide hazel eyes, but he had Dean’s mischievous grin.

“Uncle Dean!”

“Dean-o!” Dean crouched, catching the boy as he barreled into him. “What’s up, kiddo? You keeping your old man in line?”

Dean Jr. nodded enthusiastically. “Dad says you work for the President now. Is that true?”

Dean ruffled the boy’s hair. “Sure is. Cool, huh?”

“Super cool,” Dean Jr. said, his eyes wide with awe.

“Alright, enough hero worship,” Sam teased, though his smile betrayed how much he enjoyed seeing his son and brother bond. “Come on, dinner’s almost ready.”

The meal was hearty—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables—and filled with easy conversation. Dean filled them in on the basics of his new job, skirting around the grittier details of his past. Sam and Jess shared stories about their life, from Jess’s latest work project to Dean Jr.’s adventures in Little League.

It was only after the dishes were cleared and Jess had taken Dean Jr. upstairs to bed that the conversation turned serious.

The brothers sat in the living room, each nursing a beer. The light from the fireplace cast a warm glow, and the house was quiet except for the occasional creak of the floorboards above.

“So,” Sam began, leaning back on the couch, “you gonna tell me how this happened?”

Dean took a long swig of his beer, then set the bottle down on the coffee table. “What, me working for the President? Thought you already knew.”

“I know the headlines,” Sam said, his brow furrowing. “But what I don’t know is how you went from ADX Florence to the White House.”

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Figured you’d ask eventually.”

“Of course I’d ask.” Sam’s voice was gentle but firm. “You were in prison, Dean. The kind of prison people don’t just walk out of.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It started with a newspaper.”

Sam blinked. “A newspaper?”

Dean nodded. “I was in my cell, flipping through this paper someone left behind. Saw an ad for a private security position with the President. They were looking for someone who could think outside the box, someone with…unconventional skills.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “And you thought, ‘Hey, that sounds like me’?”

“Something like that.” Dean’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Figured I didn’t have much to lose, so I wrote up a resume. Handed it off to my lawyer, told him to file it.”

Sam stared at him, his disbelief evident. “And they just…hired you?”

“No,” Dean said with a chuckle. “They didn’t even call me at first. Took weeks before I heard anything. When they finally did, they put me through the wringer—interviews, background checks, psych evaluations. The works.”

“And they still hired you?” Sam asked, shaking his head in amazement.

“Guess they figured my track record spoke for itself,” Dean said, his tone turning more serious. “I’ve done things, Sam. Bad things. But I’ve also done what needed to be done when no one else could. They saw that.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, processing his brother’s words. “And now you’re protecting the most powerful person in the world.”

Dean nodded. “Guess you could say I’m making up for lost time.”

Sam studied his brother, his expression thoughtful. “You know, Jess and I were talking about you the other night. About how far you’ve come. We’re proud of you, Dean.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably, not used to hearing such straightforward praise. “Don’t get all mushy on me, Sammy.”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m serious. You’ve been through hell and back, and somehow you’re still standing.”

Dean took another sip of his beer, his gaze distant. “Yeah, well. Standing’s about all I’m good at.”

“That’s not true,” Sam said firmly. “You’ve got a purpose now. A second chance. Don’t sell yourself short.”

Dean glanced at his brother, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam returned the smile, then leaned back with a sigh. “So, what’s she like? The President.”

Dean hesitated, caught off guard by the question. “She’s…different.”

“Different how?”

“She’s smart. Sharp as hell. Tough, but not in a fake way. And she actually listens, which is more than I can say for most people in her position.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you respect her.”

“I do,” Dean admitted.

“And for your type…” Sam smirked, his voice taking on a teasing tone. “She’s pretty hot.”

Dean nearly choked on his beer. “Sam!”

“What?” Sam asked, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying. You’ve got a thing for strong women, and she sounds like she fits the bill.”

Dean shook his head, trying to suppress a laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it,” Sam said with a grin. “Besides, you deserve someone who can keep up with you.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through him at his brother’s words.

The rest of the evening passed in easy conversation, the kind that only happened between brothers who’d been through it all together. When Dean finally stood to leave, Sam walked him to the door, clapping him on the shoulder as he stepped outside.

“Take care of yourself, Dean,” Sam said, his voice quiet but steady.

“You too, Sammy,” Dean replied, his gaze lingering on his brother’s home—the warmth, the love, the life Sam had built.

As Dean climbed into the Impala and drove away, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a place for him in this world after all.

NEXT UP:

“Dean,” you said, a touch of surprise in your voice. “I thought you were on your break.”

He didn’t reply right away. Instead, his gaze locked with yours, and the air seemed to thicken. There was something different about him—an intensity in his expression, a flicker of something unspoken.

Without a word, he reached up and tugged at his tie, loosening it further before slipping it over his head and tossing it onto one of the chairs.

Your eyebrows shot up. “What are you doing?”

Dean didn’t answer. He shrugged out of his suit jacket next, draping it over the back of a chair with deliberate ease. His movements were slow, calculated, and impossibly confident.

“Dean?” you repeated, your voice catching slightly.

His shirt followed. Button by button, he undid it with maddening patience, his green eyes never leaving yours. Your breath hitched as he peeled it off, revealing the broad, chiseled planes of his chest and the faint scars that crisscrossed his skin—a testament to a dangerous past.

By the time his hands went to his belt, your pulse was racing.

“What are you—” you began, but the words died in your throat as he stepped forward.

In one smooth motion, Dean swept the documents off your desk, scattering them across the floor. He leaned down, his hands bracketing you on either side as he effortlessly lifted you onto the polished wood surface.

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weirdfangirly · 14 days ago

Text

The Whore —18+

Dark Fiction

Dark!Mando x Reader // Dark!Joel Miller x Reader

Summery: you are a prostitute in Tattooian and encounter the infamous Mandalorian.

Warnings: mention of Slavery, Forced prostitution, Abuse, Sexual abuse.

A/n: Y’all fuck with Mando? Well now you do ☺️ this was a quick, fun little thing to write. Please let me if you liked it or not and if it’s worth a part 2. Tbh the only reason I’m back is because of you guys feedback on my other stories! So every comment and like means a lot!!

It was a terribly hot day in Tatooine.

Sweat was dripping down your bare back. Your delicate skin was shimmering under the sunlight.

The hot sand burned your feet and the heat was pressing onto your skull. You and your sisters were sitting outside the whore-house. It was even more unpleasant inside than it was outside; no windows, no air conditioning, designed to make the stay quick. There was also the sickening smell of sex lingering inside the rooms.

Having nothing else to do but to wait, your sister Nika was lazily braiding your hair. The other girls sat on the ground, with thin cloths over their heads, to protect them from the merciless heat.

In the early noon hours the rush of men was small. Your usual customers where Traveler's and merchant’s, but the barbaric temperatures didn’t bring many visitors down to the otherwise busy bazaar of Tatooine, leaving you and your sisters redundant.

“What if none will come?”, Nika dared to ask. She spoke out loud what all of you were thinking. No customer meant no credits, no credits meant trouble…

“They’ll come in the later hours.”, you reassured her, not sounding convinced. “Today will be dry, though...”

“He will be very angry at us...”, Lala murmured. She was four years younger than you, making her the youngest of the group. She shouldn’t be working at a place like this for a man like him.

They all agreed in silence.

“Maybe we shall wander.”, Nika suggested. “Maybe we will find willing men in the taverns and canteens.”

Each of you were tired and exhausted, walking around the city was the least you wanted to do, but Nika's suggestion was justified. You couldn't just sit around all day and do nothing. Master would be furious if the four of you didn't have enough credits together by the end of the day.

You all nodded and wandered away. Each on their own way. Each with the same goal.

———

The streets where deserted. Your stomach growled, your tongue were dry, your eyelids heavy and sluggish. Food was a reward for you and your sisters at the end of every day. Food was given only if you brought your master enough credits. The owners of the taverns usually didn't like to spot one of you fishing for customers in their locals.They used to chase you away like cattle. Some took pity and let you stay, gave you water. However, this was rare.

Hesitantly you entered a tavern. The smell of strong alcohol and fat crept up your nose. The owner, an old fat man, stood behind the bar and cleaned the counter. He looked incredibly bored. He occasionally whipped the sweat away from his bearded face. There wasn’t many guests present. A few had their heads on the table and slept out their alcohol intoxication.

Your gaze wandered around the tavern, hoping to find someone who wasn't too drunk and looked like he had enough money to pay you for your services. You couldn't be picky. Anyone who could pay was eligible. No matter how old he was, whether he was fat or stank. Your body wasn't yours, your choices weren't yours. You belonged to your master, who saved you from death and gave you and the other girls a home.

“Hey, whore! Out with you!”, Screamed the landlord upset when he spotted you. “Out with you!”

You stood there unable to run out when he stomped towards your direction and roughly grabbed you by your upper arm. “You work for Joel Miller, right?”

“Y-yes, sir.”, you had the attention of the whole tavern now.

“Then out with you!” he breathed angrily. “That son of a bitch owes me 200 credits and I’ll be DAMNED if I let one of his whores search for customers in my tavern!”

“I’m sorry, Sir.”, you whimpered, but the old man only intensified his grip on your arm, looking you up and down. You were only wearing a semi-see through robe bound around your breasts and a little skirt around your hips that only covered so much. There was a shift in his eyes. He licked his lips and came closer to your face. “You should suck my cock in front of everyone while I’m at work to pay off your masters credits, no?”

A round of cheerful applause came from the few customers of the tavern. The idea of a free show seemed appealing to the men, a change of sight in their boring routines. You were terrified at the thought. The old man was digging his long dirty claws into your arm, causing your tender skin to break and draw blood. Salty tears started to form around your eyes.

“Please, sir, I’m sorry for trespassing, please let me go. I’ll talk with my master. He's an honourable man. He'll settle his debts to you.”, you hiccuped, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“Honourable? Ha! He’s a piece of shit.”, the man spat. “Now get down on your knees and give us a show, cunt.”

“Let her go.”, a deep muffled voice cam from behind. The room was suddenly deadly quite, the cheerful laughter had died and only your little sobs were audible.

“This is non of your business, Mandalorian.”, the man informed the stranger. “Me and the cunt have business to attempt.”

“Let her go…or don’t.”, the Mandalorian calmly said. There was a clear warning lingering around his words. A thread.

The old man weighed out his options. You couldn't see the man behind you, because the old man still had you in his grip, but you'd often encountered fantastic stories about the Mandalorians. And if there's even a shred of truth behind these stories, it's best not to mess with them.

The man holding you was old and in bad shape. His stomach was big enough to carry triplet’s and his face was swollen and red. He didn’t look like a fighter. There was no way he’d win a fight against a Mandalorian. The old man looked at the Mandalorian and then back at you, decided that you weren’t worth the trouble and tossed you to the stranger behind you. Your back collided with his hard armour.

You quickly turned around, not even looking up at the Mandalorian, offered him and equally quick “thank you, sir” and rushed out of the tavern. At least that was the plan, but the Mandalorian had grabbed you softly by your wrist.

“Stay.”

———

The Mandalorian led you to a table and made you sit with him. You couldn’t stop staring at him from beneath your long lashes. He was tall, so much taller than you, even sitting down. You were practically naked compared to him. The little robe around you chest left little to nothing to the imagination. And it was hot, you were sweating. You could feel your nipples poking at the scratchy fabric and something told you it didn’t went unnoticed by the Mandalorian.

What did he want from you? Well, you were a whore, so you took a wild guess…

You were nervous and a little terrified, but you tried to remind yourself that he’d saved you from being utterly humiliated in front of everyone. He couldn’t be that bad of a man. And besides, his armour looked expensive. Berska. He must’ve been a rich man. You thought about your Master, and your sisters. You needed to bring money home.

You thought about your Masters lessons. He thought you and your sisters to never be shy around men. You stared at his helmet, swallowing you fear down and let your fingers slowly creep across the table towards his gloved hand. You needed to show him that you were fun and worth every credit. He followed your movement and watched your boney fingers touch his gloved ones.

“Thank you for saving me, Mister.”, you murmured, your voice small but sincere. “I’m in your dept.”

“No, your not.”, he simply stated and leaned back in his seat, taking his hand with him, leaving your fingers untouched. You blushed and immediately pulled your hand back.

“But there’s something you can do for me.”, he added.

You nodded, eager to have your first customer for the day. “I’ll not disappoint, Mister. But…I have to remind you, that I have to charge for my time...”

For some reason you felt shameful reminding him of your nature. He’d just saved you from physical and emotional pain and here you were wanting his credits. Your Masters words we’re back in your mind. Whores don’t feel shame.

“I will pay you.”, he agreed.

You nodded. “I have a room, down the streets. We would’ve more privacy there.”, you suggested.

“No.”, he just said. “I don’t have that kind of business with you.”

“If you don’t find me pretty, maybe you’d wish to see one of my sis-“

He wasn’t declining your body because of your looks. He did find you to be breathtakingly beautiful and he was thankful that he was wearing a helmet so you couldn’t see where his eyes wandered a couple of times.

“Joel Miller.”, he spoke the very familiar name out loud. “Where can I find him?”

Your lips suddenly sealed, you looked at him fearfully. “Are you a bounty hunter?”, you dared to ask.

Mando nodded.

You shook your head, mouth dry. “I can’t help you. I can’t betray my Master like that. Please, Mandalorian, let me go.”, fear was talking out of you. Mando could see the change in your demeanour after he’d mentioned his name.

“You are free to go wherever, after you’ve told me what I need to know.”

“If he finds out that I helped you, he will throw me to the dogs.”, you started to cry. You were intimidated by the Mandalorian, you didn’t want any trouble. But you feared your Master more than anything.

“He won’t get the opportunity to hurt you, after I’m done with him.”, he started. “You will be a free woman afterwards.”

Mando watched your body shiver under your cries. You soft flesh and your bouncing breasts. Mando titled his head. He wondered what your life must’ve been like. He wondered what Joel Miller had done to you to make you so afraid of him.

“You can go.”, Mando finally said. It came surprising, but not purely out of good intentions...

You sniffled, looking at him in disbelief, but his words left no room for hesitation. With tears welling up in your eyes, you stood up abruptly and bolted out of the tavern.

Mando slowly stood up right after. He left some credits and walked out of the tavern into the heat of the day. He knew all he had to do was follow you to get to his destination. Joel Miller.

#dark!joel #dark!joel miller #joel miller #joel x reader #tlou #dark!joel x reader #joel miller x female reader #mean!joel #the mandalorian #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader

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empressdede · 3 months ago

Text

Me, U & Jealousy - Chapter Five

Previous Chapter

This story is written in both past and present. Italics is written in the past and regular font is written in the present.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Chapter Five

Sorai and Jada were having a girls night until the boys show up again to ‘babysit’.

“What do you mean you never finish?” Jada asked in almost disbelief and Sorai shrugged her shoulders.

“I just don’t think it’s possible.”

“Oh bitch, it’s very possible. I could confirm that myself. So he’s never made you have an orgasm?”

Sorai shook her head, and she was kind of embarrassed to admit that. “I give it to myself from time to time so I know what it feels like. But Cameron…. I don’t know. Like he’s super excited about it and then he’s going at it and at first it feels good.”

“Okay so when does it stop feeling good?”

“After a while. I don’t know what he does but… and sometimes he sucks too hard so it hurts.” Sorai continued, stopping when she heard Jada scoff.

“Is that why you guys broke up?”

Sorai rolled her eyes. “No. He keeps complaining about the Fatu brothers. Especially about Sefa, he thinks there’s something going on between us.”

Now admittedly, there is some tension between the two of them but they had agreed after the house party they attended two years ago that they would not cross those lines with each other again.

After he took her home, he had kissed her again ‘just one last time’ he had claimed and then agreed to never cross those lines with her again.

But damn was it hard, especially when Sefa started working out for football Junior year. She already didn’t like Monica, but was starting to not to like her even more. She was finding herself more envious of the girl.

Sorai pushed those feelings to the side though because Cameron decided to actively pursue her. So for two years, she’s kept her attention on Cameron.

Her and Cameron were very compatible, he really liked Sorai and loved spending time with her; but whenever he had a chance to really get her alone, her ‘brothers’ were quick to snatch her up. Especially Sefa.

She doesn’t blame Cameron for feeling the way that he does… she felt the tension her damn self. But he was a friend who was almost family. How could she even cross those lines anyways?

Jada rolled her eyes this time, “I thought he said he wasn’t insecure about him? They let everyone know they’re your brothers and he knew that two years ago, why is he acting up like that now?”

“Said things were different from when we were sixteen… I dont know Jada. Every other week he complaining about something.” Sorai shrugged. They’d be back together before she knew it so she wasn’t really stressing it.

“Bitch you better than me, I would’ve broke up with him for the bad head alone. Is the sex even worth it?”

“He almost makes me cum when we have sex; just not when he gives me head. But Cameron said most girls don’t even cum and that it’s normal.”

“Bullshit.” Another person voiced out, causing both girls to snap their heads towards the door. When the fuck did he even get here?

“Do you ever knock?” Sorai asked, squinting her eyes at him.

He shrugged. “Y’all knew I was coming over. And don’t think you slick either, I heard what you said.”

“Ugh, Joseph give it a rest. We’re grown now you know?” Jada responded to defend her friend.

“So grown that I still have to come and watch over you guys when Sorai’s parents leave for the weekend?” He asked sarcastically with a raised eyebrow.

“First of all, my dad asked the twins to pass by and CHECK UP on me. Not babysit. So you’re actually here for no reason.”

“Twins were busy so they sent me. All for me to hear about how Cameron can’t even do his job right.”

Jada couldn’t help but laugh cause she agreed with him. Cameron was misleading her inexperienced friend into thinking those kinds of performances were acceptable and it was not.

Sorai rolled her eyes at her friends, how fuckin mature. “Ha Ha Ha.” She dryly replied before continuing, “I don’t understand what the big deal is anyways, it doesn’t even feel that good”

“Yes it really does. I’m talking about toe curling, body shaking, eyes crossing. Girl it’s literally so good. Do not let that boy lie to you cause he sucks.” Jada scoffed shaking her head. “I could hook you up with somebody who could give you the experience of a lifetime and you can see what you missing.”

“I wish the fuck you would. Piss me off if you want to Jada.” Sefa replied, glaring at her.

“What!? I know a guy who could -“

“No.” He dismissed which caused Sorai to raise her eyebrows at him.

“And since when do you make decisions for me?”

He shrugged, “I don’t. But one word to Joe and it’ll be all of us jumping yo lil friend. Cameron barely got out scott free, he still got one waiting on him too.”

“Sefa that’s not fair, you get to rotate between Monica and whoever else but I can’t get new experience from someone else? Mind you, I’m grown.”

“Mind you, I don’t care. Yo momma left like $20 downstairs so what we getting, pizza or Chinese?”

He had to change the subject, and he didn’t care how obvious it seemed to either of them. Sorai was not linking up with no fuckin random. The thought of it almost pissed him off, he wish Jada would just shut the hell up.

Sorai didn’t need no new experience from nobody. She just needed to sit her lil ass down somewhere before she get somebody else fucked up for no reason.

Sorai rolled her eyes. There was no winning with Sefa, so she let it go.

“I’m sick of pizza, get Chinese.” Jada replied, and Sorai nodded in agreement.

“Orange chicken and white rice with some egg rolls.”

Joseph nodded his head and left her room to go make the order.

Jada was the first one to speak up, smacking her teeth and hitting Sorai on the arm. “You need to tell Joseph that he can’t keep you sheltered forever. Sneaking off all the time gets tired after awhile don’t you think?”

“Even if Sefa wasn’t a problem, the other three would literally kill me. Joe almost took Cameron’s head off for bringing me home late one time.” Sorai explained with a shrug, “They’re the big brothers remember? They just want to look out. I just wish Sefa wouldn’t be so hard on me. We’re literally the same age.”

“Then tell him that!” And Sorai gave her friend a tired sigh in response. They both knew no matter what Sorai told Joseph, he was not going to listen to her. If he didn’t want her doing something, he went out of his way to make sure it didn’t happen.

She thought of it as his way of looking out for her and even though she hates it, it’s nice to know that he cares so much.

But in reality it wasn’t because he cared so much; Its more so the fact that he was selfish. He didn’t know how long he could play pretend with her anymore and he almost didn’t care who knew it.

Joseph barely let her out with Cameron as is and the times that she was with him for longer than he liked; it was because Monica was occupying his time.

And he really hated that damn brother bullshit his brothers had instilled to the whole world. The idea was nice and all but he was not her fucking brother and he did his best to show her that; especially two years ago at Britney’s party.

Sometimes, he swore she would look at him in a different kind of light but then she’d be right back in that stupid boys arms and he’d disregard the thought completely.

Joseph shook his head to focus on what he came downstairs for in the first place.

Meanwhile upstairs, the girls - really it was Jada - tried to come up with a plan on expanding Sorai’s horizons while she was currently single.

"We could see if Matthew got some fine ass homeboys." Jada suggested which made Sorai roll her eyes.

"Just cause they’re fine doesn’t mean they know what they’re doing. We need somebody who got good reviews."

Jada busted out laughing out of nowhere before jokingly stating, "To bad we can’t go to Joseph, do you hear how Monica be bragging? He would’ve been perfect."

Sorai laughed with her friend, shaking her head to make it seem like she was disgusted with the suggestion, but her body littered with goosebumps as she really thought about it. She remembered exactly everything Monica has ever said about Sefa when it came to that. Was he really that good? Curiosity really got the best of her.

Unknowing of the dilemma Jada just sent her best friend through, she continues to suggest another boy with good reviews. "We could hit up TJ, I heard he was really good. Actually, Rose said they hooked up at some party over the summer and he gave her a time to remember."

That piqued Sorai’s interest just a little bit, "How good of a time?"

"Aye man, what the fuck did I just say?" Sefa states as soon as he enters the room.

Jada rolled her eyes, "Joseph, please grow up. Rai grown just like you. You not the only one who wanna have cake and eat it too."

And to be honest, Sorai completely agrees. She was old enough to make her own decisions and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out just who she wanted to cross those lines with. But for now, she decides to change the subject for the sake of both of her friends.

“Can we just forget it and just watch white chicks?”

Jada smacked her lips, glaring at the annoying Samoan, “Look at what you did, you happy now?”

“Jada, can you be serious for even one day in your fucking life?” He retorted back to her.

Sorai rolled her eyes again, “Can y’all not? Let’s just watch a movie and forget about it.”

“ She saved you this time but the next time you work my nerves, me and Rai, jumping you.” Jada threatened which caused Joseph to roll his eyes and ignore her. He didn’t come here to argue, plus it didn’t matter.

He said what he said, and nothing was changing that. So, after putting the DVD into the slot, the group of friends found themselves comfortable in Sarai’s room; the girls on the bed and Joseph on the air mattress until the Chinese food finally came.

“Sefa, go get the food.”

“Why I got to go get the food? It’s your house.” he only argued to be annoying. It didn’t stop Sarai from pouting at the thought of getting out of bed, which caused him to smack his teeth and get up wordlessly.

"Oh shit, tell him to grab the drinks from the kitchen." Jada reminded, which caused Sorai to groan. She forgot about that.

"You think he’ll go back downstairs and get them?" She asked which caused Jada to snort.

Joseph would not make the second trip and they both knew that. Sorai through her head back to let out a loud groan and threw the covers off her body to slide out of the bed. "We have Coke instead of Pepsi, that fine for you?"

Jada nodded her head as a response and snuggled under the covers while Sorai left to go downstairs. A small giggle leaving her lips when she caught Sefa going through the food to ensure everything they ordered was there.

"They forget your eggrolls one time and now look at you." She teased.

"I’m not gonna take that from someone who cried when McDonald’s gave her the wrong meal."

Sorai’s eyes opened wide as a gasp escaped her lips, "I was on my period Sefa; that don’t count." She defends which caused him to laugh and turn around to face her.

"According to you, a lot of things don’t count." he stated with air quotation marks and she knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Don’t do that Sefa, that’s not fair."

"I’m just saying." He replied with a shrug, and Sorai knew it wasn’t fair to dismiss what happened between them at the party two years ago; but the two of them made a promise.

"How was I supposed to tell anybody that-"

"You don’t have to tell nobody nothing but at least when it’s just us, we could be honest with each other. I mean, do you regret it?" he meekly asked, and Sorai couldn’t help but feel guilty, she didn’t think dismissing the event would make him think she regretted it.

"No Sefa, I don’t regret it." She assured to him softly and he flashed her a smile at her honesty.

"If you want me to be honest when it’s just us… I think about it sometimes." She confessed and there it was again.

That thick tension between the two that could barely be cut by a knife. The admission causing butterflies to swarm in her stomach and the conversation she had with Jada reemerged in her head.

"Just sometimes?" He questioned and Sorai shrugged in response.

"Do you think about it?" She meekly asked, and her shyness caused him to chuckle.

"Don’t be nervous Rai."

"I’m not! And answer the question Sefa."

He grabbed her arm to pull her flush against him before he answered quietly, "I always think about it Rai."

Goosebumps littered her skin at his admission, and she searched his eyes to see if she was being dishonest with her. But she couldn’t find anything that gave away that he was being deceitful.

"…sometimes, I want to do it again." and that made Sorai bite her lips.

She thought it was just her who felt like that. She wanted to test the theory of what would happen if she let him know that the feeling was mutual.

"Me too." She whispered out to him and with the same boldness from last time, his arms wounded around her waist and pulled her even closer to press against him. This time, though Sorai was ready.

Sliding her hands up his arms until they both wrapped around his neck and they both leaned in. Unlike last time, he grazed his lips against her to prepare her, but that was all they could do because Jada’s "WHERE THE HELL Y’ALL AT?" from upstairs caused them to break apart.

It reminded them where they were at, and even though in the moment they wanted to succumb to their weakness, they decided to press into those kinds of matters later. ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The walk to the locker room was shorter than Sorai really wanted it to be and Jada held her hand the entire way.

“Listen, it’ll be okay. Fake it till you make it okay? And soon as you’re done we can race out of there.” Jada promised and Sorai nodded her head at her best friend. She liked that plan, and it was the only one they could come up with given the last minute heads up.

“Hey, look at me.” Jada softly asked, causing Sorai to turn and look at her. The state of panic did not leave her eyes and albeit Jada had no clue what she was walking into, she refused to let the girl she seen as a sister walk in there like that.

“…Tell me your okay and we can walk in there.”

Sorai shook her head because she wasn’t okay and she is so grateful for Jada being here for her; being so patient with her and letting her collect herself first. She didn’t know what she did to deserve her but God, was she thankful for her.

“It’ll be a big opportunity.” Jada pushes one more time, to maybe steer her mind away from the people at hand and instead to focus on her job. It works.

“If Paul sees this and he likes it then I could get another chance to Interview the main event on Raw instead of smackdown.” Sorai replies, nodding her head at the goal she just placed in her head. Jada kept her eyes on her, watching Sorai calm herself down and steady her breathing.

Sorai squeezed Jada’s hand before whispering out, “I’m okay.”

Then she knocked on the door.

Eddie opened the door, flashing both girls a smile and widening the door to let them in. “Alright, good luck ladies.” The producer stated before locking the door and walking out of the room.

What the fuck just happened? The girls thought to themselves as they took in the setting of the room. There were no cameras, no microphones, just the boys in the room, waiting for her. They just set her up.

“Sorai-“ Joe started but she was quick to cut him off.

“Is my job a joke to you, Roman?” Sorai asked, furrowing her eyebrows at him. The blood in her body starting to boil as she thought about them really setting her up.

But Joe took a step back when the name,‘Roman’ came out of her mouth. She’s calling them their stage names as if he was a stranger and he didn’t know how to feel about that, but he was determined to find out today.

“No Sorai, your job isn’t a joke to us. But you’ve been avoiding us so we didn’t know what else to do.” He answers honesty. They had to go to the extreme for this and even if they didn’t get what they were looking for, Joe made sure that she would have done at least three interviews for the next couple of shows.

“So instead, you have me come here under false circumstances. Instead of pushing myself to get more interviews, I’m here…wasting my time.”

“Baby sis we just want-“ He tried again but Sorai was quick. She had already turned her back to leave, Jada’s hand still linked with hers. Only to stop in her tracks when she finds the twins standing in front of the door.

“No more running Rai, we need to talk.” Joshua stated this time. Sorai’s demeanor was almost breaking and she didn’t want to break down in front of them. They didn’t deserve it.

“Let me out or I’ll scream.” She threatened.

“You can scream but we already warned security if they heard anything coming from this room to ignore it until the show starts.” Jon speaks up with a shrug. “It’s been two months Rai, you’ve had your space.”

Jada, who knew first hand that this could go on forever raised her hand to silence the room. “Okay, listen. Guys do you really think this is necessary?”

“Rai is family and everything can be handle within the family. Kinda hard to do when she keeps running from said family.” Joe speaks up again.

Sorai shook her head, trying to keep her thoughts from making her spiral. “What do you want from me?” She finally asked.

“What happened when we left Rai?” Josh asked, the twins has moved away from the door and walking in front of Sorai so that they could have this conversation properly.

“Nothing happen.” She dismissed with a shrug. “Is that all?”

“No. Rai, please.” Jon pleaded, taking a small step toward her, “we just want to fix it sis.”

“Did someone break your heart?” Joe asked and damn was that question, the stone to make her walls crumble.

Her lips quivered and she shrugged again. “It doesn’t matter.” She croaked out and she could see their shoulders sink in relief.

As if this wasn’t something they did per se.

“Who broke your heart sis?” Jon asked, and the tears she fought so hard to keep back spilled over.

Her eyes scanned the room one more time, making sure to make eye contact with all of them, her eyes on Sefa’s the longest before turning to face Jon again. “You did.” She whispered.

The surprise look on their faces was one to die for. Of course they don’t remember.

“Us?” Joe questioned, eyebrows furrowed in thought. “What did we do?”

“Joe, I don’t want to talk. Please.” Sorai begged, the tears still silently flowing from her eyes. “I know that you want to talk but I’m not ready. If I’m still so important to you, can you respect that?”

“Well, what are we supposed to do Rai? Just sit and let what you said just slide?” Josh spoke up this time.

Sefa couldn’t take it anymore. “Rai.” He called out, bringing the attention to him.

Her heart ached in her chest at the sound of his voice. She turned and faced him, “Sefa, please; I can’t.” She begged and his heart broke but he wanted answers too.

“Rai-“

“You promised Sefa, please.” She cried out and he sighed.

“Let her go.” He told his brothers who immediately began to disagree with him.

“No.” Josh stated

“Man what hell is you talking about?” Jon questioned

But Sefa stood his ground, even if it didn’t make sense to him either. He did it for her.

“She don’t wanna talk; just let her leave. We can’t force her to talk, that ain’t right.”

Jada seemed to agree, grabbing onto Sorai’s hand again to pull her out of the locker room.

If there’s one thing they all knew, it was that Sefa’s save was only temporary. Eventually they were going to seek the truth from her, no matter what it took.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/N: I’m 50/50 about this chapter. I’m not sure how I feel about it. Tried my hardest to make it better but this is what I got🤣 I hope you guys still enjoy it though cause baby this took forever to make.

Y’all know what I regularly say; Gimme love🥺🫶🏾 And Like, comment and repost if you’d like.

(If you have not been tagged for this story previously and I have tagged you now, it is because you are apart of my official taglist. If you do not want to be tagged in this story, please let me know and I can remove your tag🫶🏾 Thank you)

Tagging the lovelies: @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @skyesthebomb @christinabae @leighla3 @whatdoeseverybodywant @harmshake @yana3sworld @angiedawn02 @theninthwonder @headoftheetable @romansthrone @wrestlingprincess80 @blacst4r @alyyaanna @raya-hunter01 @paigereeder

#empressdede #empresswriting #wwe #black reader #sefa fatu x black reader #sefa fatu x oc #sefa fatu #solo sikoa x black reader #solo sikoa x oc #solo sikoa #MEYOUANDJEALOUSY

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fictionalmenxyn · 2 months ago

Note

HII so I have a request for sturniolo triplets x sister!reader like the one u did with the stream can u pls do one we’re she in a car vid (u don’t have u) IM IN LOVE WITH UR WRITING!!

GLAD U LIKE MY WRITING!! Of course I can!!!

———

⁂𝐂𝐚𝐫 𝐕𝐢𝐝⁂

Pairing: sturniolo triplets x sister!reader

Warnings: language and fighting (PLAYING)

AN: hey sos for shorter post tonight. Got a big project for art in college I was working on most of today! Hope you’re all doing well! Uh read are still open as usual! I’m getting round to them as quick as possible! I promise! Love y’all! Have a good day/night!

⁂⁂⁂

“Hey guys welcome back to another car video!” Nick introduced.

You were in the lasted car video, sat next to Nick in your seated position. Where you’d usually sit in the car anyways. Matt spoke “this time we have a guest too!” He looks at you through the rear view mirror. You smiled and waved “it’s me bitch, the basest in town” you playfully flick your hair “Y/n”. Nick clapped “yesss!!”

Chris asked the first question “Y/n, what’s it like being the only girl in the quadruplets?” You smiled “ohh it’s so much fun, I mean my gender don’t gotta do anything with it. But it’s so much fun! Like I don’t know what I’d do without these idiots, really.” Matt smiled “aw that’s cute, y/n/n.”

You then held the phone, “ok, real question, man or bear??” You held up a fist “me bitch! I’d beat em both!!” You are a fry from Chris’s box. “Hey that’s mine!” You giggle “not anymore, loser!” He playfully glared at you.

Nick asked “ok! Question here asks if Y/n has a room at the LA house? The answer is yes.” You smiled “yeah I do, it’s next door to Chris cause we like to have sleepovers cause neither of us can sleep on our own.” You smile and tilt your head. Chris spoke “Y/n is a blanket hog though, so if you ever have a-” you smacked him playfully across the head “no I don’t that’s you!!” Chris reached back and playfully smacked you to. He never hit as hard as we did with Matt or Nick, but he still did it. You laugh, whacking him again, he climbed into the back. You squeal out of surprise and finding this hilarious.

Nick looks to the camera and speaks “you see what Matt and I gotta deal with on the daily? You think Chris and I are bad for this shit?? Think again, these two are worse!” Matt nodded and agreed with Nick.

You and Chris were through if hits, the. Nick intervened “alright you pair! Chris get back in your fucking seat!” Chris used his two fingers and did the ‘I’m watching you’ gesture. You did the same back to him. “Kiss it, Topher!” He couldn’t hide the smile on his face when he climbed back into the chair.

Matt spoke “right, back to the video!” Matt held Nick’s phone and asked “so if ya’ll do another tour, will Y/n come on the next one.” You side eyed the camera and playfully tucked your hair behind your ear. “Maybe, JUST! Maybe, you pookies can catch me at the next tour…” they all laughed. “My colour would be red!! And my animal is definitely a red panda… definitely!” Nick said “oh yeah, Y/n has a red panda obsession!” You shrugged “not my fault they’re cutie pituties!”

You rested your head on Nick’s shoulder as Chris asked “hey, besides the questions, I got one that doesn’t relate at all…” Nick spoke “speak your mind.” Chris asked “who drank my half empty Pepsi can earlier today?” You proudly raised your hand and shouted “me!” Chris shouted “WHAT?!” You laughed “karmas a bitch, Topher! Your fault for eating my donuts bitch!” Chris was going to lunge back into the back seats again. But Matt pulled his belt and tugged him back into his seat. Nick laughed “ooo Matt the ref is out everyone!” Matt nodded “cause I don’t want these two idiots to mess up the car.” Chris playfully crossed his arms and pouted. You held up your pointer finger “I win, I win!” Chris gasped “nuh uh! I’m so getting you when we get home, watch your back, Y/n/n!”

You gasped “oh my god! I forgot to put our cupcakes in the fridge!” You giggled as the guys gasped. Nick shouted “what?! The frosting is probably all over the fucking counter!” You all laughed “my bad! I forgot! Chris was rushing me!” “What?! You blaming me?!?” “Yeah I am, dumbass, you kept calling me and telling me to hurry my ass up!!”

You grabbed the Pepsi from the console, opening the lid and taking a few sips. You then looked at the logo colour, it was blue. You spoke “whoops, my bad.” Chris turned to look at you “did you just drink, MY drink?!” You defended “I didn’t know!! I just saw the logo and drank it!” Chris laughed “dude!! Yours is literally by Nick how can you get confused??” You shrugged “my bad…” you put the drink back in the console. Then drinking your own Pepsi.

You finally got back on track of the video’s actual content. You held Nick’s phone and asked “what’s it like living with Y/n?” Nick spoke first “the best, honestly, like she’s an all in one, ya know? Friend, sister, partner in crime, legit, everything you can think of, Y/n can do.” You smiled.

Chris replied “she’s the best sister we could all ever ask for, she legit grounds us, so much. Also the best person to talk to, like on the down, she’s your wing woman, for real.” Matt nods “agreed, like you can go to her for anything and she can help you, also she’s great at adjusting to people social interaction, like she’s a ‘go with the flow’ type of person. Like if you’re quiet, she’ll be quiet. If you’re loud, she’ll match your entry to a tee.” You smiled “awww you cuties, thanks! Love ya guys!” They all say in almost synch “love you too!”

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coleszzzworld · 1 year ago

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Nsfw head canons for miggy 😩🙌🏽.

Warnings- Hate F*cking , overstimulation, praise , breeding 😀 ,cussing , hair pulling , just sum kinky stuff! Read at your own risk ⚠️!

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•when Miguel comes homes from the HQ , and he’s in a bad mood , he’ll just bend you over , doesn’t matter where If your in the kitchen, he’ll bend you over the counter, in the bathroom? , no worries he’ll bend you over the bathroom sink ! , it doesn’t matter like I said., when he needs it , he’ll get it 👀… “Bebé te necesito…”. [baby I need you…]

•he needs a way too release his stress , he has pent up stress and anger from work , he just takes it out on you , while he’s fucking you from the back he’ll grab your hair and pull it , while he’s saying mean things :) , he has no chill , he’ll say the most dehumanizing thing and later on will act like he never said it 😭 , “eres una puta tan buena para mí , t-taking me so good , I love when you let me fuck you when ever I want … your such a good fuck toy perra..” [“your such a good whore for me]. [“bitch”]

•even when he made you cum 4 times , he keeps going, bro has a lot of stamina, and anger ,when it gets too sensitive , you try too stop him or try too crawl away , he’ll just slap your hand away from trying too stop his sloppy thrusts , if you try too crawl away he’ll pull you back down on his cock , then he’ll tease you for not being able too take him . “C-can’t even take me anymore huh? , cmon perra … I know you can take it , just a l-little bit more for me.”

•when Miguel isn’t hate fucking you , he loves praising you , don’t get me wrong he still loves it rough but he takes some time too love your body , and appreciate it , he loves when your on top of him , riding him (save a horse ride a cowboy 🤠) he’ll grab your boob , and the other hand is on your hip as you grind and jump on dat dickkk (sorry I’ll stop 😭) he’ll just praise you on riding him so good , “mi amor , your doing so good riding my cock l-like that , g-god I love you so much …”. [“my love”].

•Ngl this man breeding kink go brrrrrrr , I mean he wants too have kids with you , he thinks you would make such a good mommy , so when you and him are on the verge of cumming , his breeding kink go crazy , while your saying your about too cum , he’ll push your hips down , and speak , “mi amor ,would you like it if I came in you , and made you a mami ?” You moan a yes in a response , “you would be a good mami , baby , you’d take great care of our kids, and I know you’ll be their when I n-need you most” he moan out as he bucks his hips into yours , then finally both of y’all reaching y’all’s highs .

•let’s just say a few weeks past and your pregnant 😀 Miguel might have not showed it , but that man was so fucking happy:)

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A/n ( I know I said I would i make fic , I am but I wanted too get something out real quick , so I made this , 😩🙌🏽 don’t worry miggy fan fic coming soon💅🏽)

#yandere blog #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader smut #miguel x reader

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atsadi-shenanigans · 8 months ago

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You Could Just Ask

Summary:

“You still gonna be a jackass to our friends instead of just asking me to pleasure you?” you say. He swallows. His adam’s apple bobs. “If this is my reward, absolutely.” He can’t see you smile at this angle. He can feel your grip leave his cock to slide your fingers through his hair before you grab. Still slow, still steady, giving him plenty of opportunity to stop you. He don’t. He lets you pull his head back, bare his throat, and only whimpers and shivers against you.

Or: Astarion is terrible about communicating what he wants. But Eleanor is getting good at translating gremlin.

Astarion has been in a fucking mood for two days now. It’s driving you nuts, it’s driving everybody nuts, and by all accounts, it’s driving him nuts. Ain’t nobody can put a finger on it, neither. He’s well fed, y’all went on a murder spree day before yesterday, and he even found a nice, silk jacket to wear around camp.

Man’s got it made.

And decided to be a bitch about it.

You sit at the breakfast fire, needlessly poking at the embers with a stick while he makes snide swipes at Gale’s cooking (which he don’t eat), Karlach’s clutter (she just found a stuffed owlbear to match Clive), and Lae’zel sharpening her weapons (he got a point, there).

Even Wyll stares at the fire, shoulders set in a tense line. Something’s gonna snap if somebody don’t do something.

“It’s not as if you can deal any real damage,” Astarion says to Shadowheart, who tried to get him off Gale’s ass and is now taking the brunt of it. “We all saw how accurate your spells were in the temple.”

She looks all cool and collected. Just lifts one of her eyebrows. But her knuckles are white as her fists tremble. Shadowheart fought off the mother superior of her former, well, it ain’t called a church, here. But she fought the bitch and won and she paid for it.

“That’s it.” You stand

Astarion clocks the movement and turns to face you (stares down his nose at you; or tries to since you two are the same damn height).

“Y’all wanna head out?” you say over your shoulder to the others as they stash their day gear into their packs. “I think we’ll stay here, today.”

“Gladly,” Gale mutters in an outside voice.

“Welcome to it,” Karlach says which means hoo-boy, even she’s getting pissy.

Wyll gives you a blank look, that slowly morphs into a sly “good luck” sort of grin. Turd. Everybody thinks the Blade of Frontiers is so upstanding, much nobility, wow. But Wyll is a sly little shit, is what he is. He just hides it real good until it’s time to strike.

They all shuffle on outta there double quick. Astarion watches them go as he checks his nails for damage that ain’t there.

Then you’re alone—well and truly, Shadowheart and her half-elven hearing—and you turn to your exasperating lover.

“The fuck was all that?” you say.

He just looks at you, all unimpressed. Sniffs. “What was what, dear? You’ll have to be more specific.”

You will not throw your camp slipper at him. He dodges too well, and then you got to go fetch the damn thing before either Scratch of Sweetums gets it and demolishes it (or drops it in the river, bad dog) (but not really bad bad dog, and he got pets later on, anyway).

“You’re being a dick,” you say.

To which he, predictably, rolls his eyes. “As if it’s my fault we’re surrounded by incompetent idiots.”

His gaze flicks down. Just for a second. You almost miss it, but it landed on the top of your tunic. You got yourself a new one of those, too. But only to wear around camp, cause it’s got itself a damn titty window under some satin neck straps. Astarion’s pupils flare wide a second, and then he glares at you as if challenging you to comment.

You been together several times, in several way by now. He usually initiates (you did once). But you got a suspicion.

You step closer. Reach out slow and careful to crook your finger over the top of his trousers, since he tucks his shirt in and all. Then you pull, slow and steady, leave him plenty of time and distance to stop you or pull away.

But his pupils dilate again, and he steps into you. Lets you drag him flush against your front.

“Astarion,” you say. The man actually licks his lips. “Did you get horny and decide to be an asshole to everybody about it?”

A hint of a smile tugs his lips before he buries that under scorn. “Of course not.”

But you’re learning his tells. The way his gaze hovers over your face, darts down to the titty window and the hint of cleavage like a hummingbird. Also the less than subtle grind against you as he says it.

“Were you being a dick to get us alone?” you say.

A pause, this time. His voice wobbles a touch when he says, “No.”

You lean in. Catch the way his face tilts to meet you.

“I think you’re lying,” you say against his lips. “I think you want me alone, and I think you went all bratty so I’d feel ornery about it.”

His inhale stutters. A minute shiver runs through him. “And what would you do if you were, ahem, ‘ornery?’”

It’s mind boggling how much things’ve changed in the months since y’all met. Since the disastrous first days of…this. That you can be here now, with him, talking like this? It’s a minor miracle.

He’s so fully pressed into you you can feel his cock twitch even through the cotton trousers.

“Did you do all this so I’d fuck you?” you say. You cannot keep the smile off your face or outta your voice.

He finally cracks. Closes his eyes and runs his lips over yours. Drawls, “Maybe.”

“Is it the strap?” you say. He’d picked it out and purchased it in the city, and then the nice sex shop man showed you how to put it on and, well, implied how to use it. And clean it (that part was very explicit, detailed instructions.)

The tip of his tongue swipes your upper lip. His hands ghost up your sides.

“Would you?” he says.

He takes charge in the sheets. But he bought that dildo to use on him, and he seemed to enjoy it when you did (he whimpered as you fucked him).

You’re learning what you like in terms of dirty talk (it’s surprisingly graphic). He’s an excellent teacher. So you gird your loins, ignore the heat all the way down your neck, and open your mouth. “You want me to spread you wide on my cock and fuck you all better?”

He sucks in a gasp. “Gods, darling, yes.”

Then his lips crash into yours and you’re both stumbling towards y’all’s shared tent.

The rest on AO3 for very, very rated E reasons.

#feeding alligators fic #these two shitheads #you could just ask #surprise smut #astarion smut #astarion fic #tavstarion smut #man's getting pegged #and edged #Astarion doesn't know how to ask for things #this is everyone's problem #was gonna wait to post #had a Monday #said fuckit let's go #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion bg3

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stvolanis · 1 year ago

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Don’t Wanna Grow Up.

( one shot )

PAIRINGS: Rockstar! OC X Mean! Jim Hopper

WARNINGS: guys Hopper is really mean in this, small plot, OC is in a band (corroded coffin), she’s Eddie’s best friend/step-sister, age gap (OC is 19 and hops in his 40s), dubcon, drinking, usual rockstar things, OC is also kinda an asshole,nice jim at the end, hop being a cop (that rhymed lol)

NSFW INCLUDES: anal play, degradation (slut, brat, bitch), spitting, (hard) slapping, hair pulling, breeding kink, breath play, power play, size kink, manhandling, choking, oral (m receiving), praising (if you squint), heavy sir kink, humiliation, public sex (parking lot), p in v sex, overstimulation, cum eating, SORRY IF I MISSED ANYTHING<3

Istg I got horny while writing this so I hope y’all enjoy !!<3

please lmk if you guys are interested in a part 2!!

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

the night was lively and booming in the small town of Hawkins, Indiana. It was a big contrast to the usual boring nights that the locals were used to, and it was surely a huge difference for on-duty chief of police, Jim Hopper.

Rowdy teens were one thing, but full grown adults plus teenagers being loud and obnoxious was not how hopper wanted to spend his night. Of course the big commotion would only mean one thing, lots of paperwork and phone calls.

It was a Tuesday night. A school night. A work night, even. What could have possibly caused all this up roar in the town? This much disruption and constant noise complaint phone calls from a small, quiet and local bar were unusual. But, nonetheless, the chief loaded up in his cruiser and made quick work of heading to the busy bar.

Jim could hear the faint blaring music from down the road, much to his dismay. As he pulled in and got out of his car, slamming the door shut, he quickly took notice of the locals stumbling out of the bar drunkenly, hollering only god knows what as he watched one fall into a bush. It was gonna be a long night.

Hopper walked into the noisy bar and was instantly met with the smell of strong alcohol and must coming from the sweaty bodies dancing around in the crowd. Unfortunately, he could also smell the lingering remanence of throw up, cause his face to crinkle up in disgust. Suddenly, the bright stage that was flashing every color under the sun caught his attention.

Of course she would be what was causing all of this nonsense.

Blood red hair sticking up in all kinds of directions bounced up and down while singing wildly. One of her dainty, fishnet covered hands in the air as her other held a microphone. The deep red lipstick she was wearing was slightly smeared, as was her eyeliner and mascara. Her honey brown eyes peering over the crowd with a wicked smile dancing on her lips at the mess she’s stirred. The lead singer of Corroded Coffin, Cherrie.

A Highschool drop-out who was on the upcoming charts with her band, soon to be leaving the small town to start touring across America for a hefty price. A delinquent since she became friends with the Munson boy, who she’d met in the 5th grade after she stabbed him in the thigh with her pink pencil.

Cherrie was a force to be reckoned with, and Hop can’t even count on his fingers anymore how many times she’d spent the night in the county jail either high out of her mind or drunk on gin. She’d spent her whole life in and out of the system, till Eddie Munsons uncle, Wayne, decided he’d take her in. Her love for music started when she’d stumbled across Eddie’s massive music collection. Once Eddie got his guitar and she had a microphone in her hand, the rest was history.

The band started off as something they did for fun with their friends, but then it turned into something they couldn’t even imagine. Once their producer released their first album, it went flying off the shelves after about a lingering week of nothing. Before they knew it, they were ushered to go on tour in 2 weeks times. Cherrie always felt she was destined for more than the small town had to offer, but she could never quite place it till now. She had wanted an escape for as long as she can remember, and now that she finally had one, she wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon.

The small town she lived in seen the worst in her, even the ones who were much worse than her. The difference between them was that she wasn’t afraid to show it. She didn’t need to put up a facade for people, because they’d always just see her as the burnt out Highschool drop out. But when she was on stage, it was like she was on top of the world. For once, the people who’d whisper terrible things about her and spread ugly rumors were looking up at her and cheering their hearts out. It was a nice change. It was a euphoric feeling.

Cherrie was no stranger when it came to the male gaze, as she’d dealt with it since she was only about 14. It’s always made her uncomfortable, for sure, but after a while she’d learned how to use it to her advantage. So it was no surprise when she’d tried attempt to seduce Jim Hopper a few months prior when he’d threaten to lock her up for good. She’d ended up spending the night in a jail cell. Ever since then, Jim’s felt uneasy around the ball of fire. Almost afraid she’d pounce at any moment on him.

But right now, it was almost as if he was in a trance as he watched her body move enchantingly. The lighting made her deep olive skin appear more vibrant, and hopper could see the sweat dripping down her chest and into her open cleavage. She wore a tight strapless corset that was laced and a small mini skirt that was so short, he was sure if she turned around he’d be able to see her ass. The fishnets that adorned her arms and legs had skulls embroidered onto them, but hopper could still see her colorful Paul Stanley star-man tattoo on the side of her thigh.

The choker she wore had protruding spikes on it and the chains she wore along with it complimented her slim neck. Hopper instinctively locked his dry lips as he stared at her for a moment longer before their eyes connected, and he felt the hairs on his arm stand up and his back straighten.

Cherrie watched Hopper walked to the side of the stage with furrowed eyebrows as he unplugged Eddie’s amp and the strobe lights, effectively making everyone let out noises of confusion and annoyance. Cherrie rolled her eyes and groaned as she dropped the mic onto the ground angrily before hopping off of the stage, pushing her way through the crowd to get to Jim. Eddie was hot on her tail, trying to calm down the fire he could’ve swore he saw in her eyes begin to spark, but he was soon lost in the crowd as he called out to her.

“What the fuck are you doing, shithead?!” Cherrie yelled out as she stood in front of Jim. “Doin’ my job, Cherrie. But you always gotta make it harder f’me, huh?” He huffed out with annoyance as he pushed past her towards the crowd of rowdy people.

“Everyone out! Right now, unless you’d like to spend the night with me at the station.” He yelled to the crowd, who quickly dispersed. Many sending Hopper ugly glances, but he was too over everything to care. “No, this is my scene, why’d you have to come fuck it up?!” She said with a groan as she stood chest to chest with him, though she was much smaller than him.

“Noise complaints, from multiple people.” He replied dryly. “Why can’t you just stay out of trouble for 2 fuckin’ minutes, is it that hard?” He added with a scoff. Cherrie didn’t process what happened as she felt her fist connect with his cheek, wincing as she rubbed her knuckles before slowly looking back up at an angry chief.

“Shit—Wait—” she muttered as she tried backing away from him, but Hop wasn’t having it. He harshly gripped her upper arm before slamming her front into the wall. “Cmon, yknow I didn’t mean to.” She said as she tried to wiggle free from his tight hold. “Shut up, brat.” He replied through clenched teeth as he snapped his cuffs onto her wrists.

“Ow!” She shouted as the cuffs tightened around her wrists painfully. Hop ignored her please as he dragged her out of the now almost empty bar. Eddie was by his van as he watched Cherrie get taken out in handcuffs with a shake of his head and a frown. “M’ sorry, Eds!” She shouted to him across the parking lot with a shrug of her shoulders. Eddie sighed as their band loaded up their belongings into his car.

Hopper pushed her forward towards the car. “We ain’t stoppin’ for chit-chat.” He grumbled under his breath. Cherrie merely rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Asshole.” She muttered under her breath. Hopper gripped her wrists in the cuffs tighter and he watched as she winced in pain. “What was that? Hm?” He muttered lowly in her ear.

She could feel his warm breath against the shell of her ear, and that’s all it took for her body to feel like it’s on fire. His grip on her wrists and the way she could feel his crotch area brush against her ass as they walked to the car from how close they are had her body on edge. She bit her lip as he opened the backseat door for her before roughly shoving her in and slamming the door shut.

Hopper got in his seat and fumbled with his keys with a huff before starting his cruiser. “Yknow you’re kinda hot when you’re mad to me, chief.” Cherrie giggled as she batted her lashes. Hopper eyed her through the rearview mirror, his eyes briefly trailing down to her open cleavage that was now free of sweat before rolling his eyes and adjusting the mirror to see better behind him, but really it’s just so his boner wouldn’t further harden from the sight of her in cuffs in his back seat.

Cherrie giggled lightly as she made herself comfortable in the backseat as Jim began driving to the police station. And then an idea hit her. “Yknow, I always thought you were a pretty shitty cop.” She said aloud as she looked out the window with a smirk. “Excuse me?” Hopper said, taken slightly aback.

“You heard me. I don’t even know you you became chief—I mean, aren’t you always drinking on the job? Yet you wanna make me seem like I’m the worst person ever.” She scoffed out with an eye roll. Hopper slammed on the breaks, making Cherrie hurl forward, hitting the head rest with a loud ‘thud’.

“Shit—what the fuck, Hop?!” She yelled out with furrowed brows. Jim’s breathing was erratic and hit fists were white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. “Yeah? You think I’m a shitty cop? Alright, y’little bitch.” He muttered with a dark chuckle as he drove into an empty parking lot that was some what hidden behind trees.

“What’re you doin? you aren’t gonna kill me are you?” Cherrie giggled, feigning fear. Hopper didn’t respond as he parked the car and swung his door open, quickly opening Cherries too. “Hey—” she started, but was cut off when hopper gripped her upper arm tightly, yanking her out of her seat and onto the ground. Cherrie sat on her knees in front of the cop, looking up at him through her thick lashes.

“Y’gonna hurt me, Hop?” She challenged with raised brows and a taunting smirk. Hoppers hand harshly made contact with the side of her cheek, roughly slapping her, making her head spin to the side as a stinging pain overtook her cheek. Cherrie whimpered lightly, making Hopper chuckle. “Thought this was what you wanted, brat.” He said tauntingly as he gripped her hair, making her look up at him.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen—” he started . “Y’gonna suck my cock like a good girl n then I’m gonna fuck that tight little cunt until I’m through with you, n maybe your ass if I feel like it. You’ve been a little bitch all night so don’t expect to fucking cum, y’hear me?” He stated as he peered down at her. Cherrie felt her pussy begin to ache with need, but this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She wasn’t supposed to actually want him the way she does now.

Cherrie nodded and Hopper slapped her once again, but on her other cheek. “Words, slut.” He spit out. Cherrie moaned at the slap, making hopper chuckle. “Yes, sir.” She muttered as she bit down on her lip. Jim groaned at the name. “Good girl.” He praised as he began to unzip his pants, letting them fall to his knees.

Cherrie could see his large bulge and a small wet patch where his tip is that’s seeping through. “M’gonna teach you how to suck cock properly, little girl.” He said as he let his hard cock spring free, long and so thick. A vein ran along the underside of it and Cherries mouth watered at the sight, but she wasn’t gonna let up so easily. “S’ not gonna fit in my mouth. Don’t want it to.” She said.

“I don’t give a fuck, you act like a brat n’ you get treated like one.” He said as he slapped his cock against the side of her cheek with a smirk. He soon forced Cherries mouth open with his thumb and shoved his throbbing member down her throat without warning, making her gag aloud. Cherrie could feel her eyes watering as his cock hit the back of her throat with no mercy. It was getting hard to breathe, and it didn’t help when the mean man above her pinched her nose shut as he held his cock in the back of her throat with a loud groan.

After a few seconds he let her nose go and she released his throbbing dick, gasping for air, hee chest heaving. “Please—” she begged through breaths of air. Jim quickly shoved his cock back down her throat that was now becoming unbearably sore, along with her jaw. She moaned around his cock as she began to grind her sopping cunt against the chiefs freshly polished boots.

Hopper felt his end coming near at the sight it. “Look at you— h-humping my boot l-l-like a bitch in heat.” He moaned at through clenched teeth as he watched her mascara and eyeliner run down her cheeks from her tears that he caused. The way she feverishly humped against his boot harder after his comment made him cum down her throat with a groan and a string of ‘fuckkk, just like that’ and ‘so fuckin good’.

Cherries senses were overwhelmed as she tasted him down her throat and on her tongue. Salty, but not bitter. Hopper slightly pulled out and released the rest of his cum on her tongue that was hanging outside of her mouth with a satisfied moan. Cherrie made quick work of swallowing his generous load. “Whaddya say, baby?” He mocked.

“Thank you for your cum, sir.” Cherrie said as she gripped at his leg, her panty covered pussy still dripping on his boot. “Needy little girl, aren’t you, Cherrie?” He asked as he clicked his tongue. She nodded and muttered a small ‘yes, sir’ as he surprisingly, gently pulled her up from the ground. Hopper gripped Cherries throat and pulled her face close to his, just enough to where their lips were brushing against each other.

“‘M gonna fuck you so good.” He muttered, and Cherrie groaned as he lips finally crashed with his. The kiss was messy and heated, and their teeth clashed together as did their tongues. They fought for dominance, but Jim over powered her as his tongue danced with hers. “Fuckkk, y’taste so good.” He groaned against her as his grip on her slim throat tighten just above her spiked choker that he adored so much on her.

He opened her mouth before spitting into it, his boner growing larger as he watched her swallow it obediently. It was just something about making her go from a bratty, loud, rude and arrogant little girl to a submissive, hot mess with not much to say now that made Jim Hopper go absolutely fucking feral. The need to be inside of her hurled into his senses as he dragged her to the front of his cruiser, bending her over the hood.

Jim got down onto his knees, now eye level with her wet, fishnet covered baby pink panties with lace on the trim of it. “So cute, baby.” He muttered as he kissed the flesh of her ass before gripping both cheeks in his large hands. He pressed his nose into her panties and inhaled her scent deeply, his dick throbbing at the smell of her arousal. Cherrie whimpered as his nose brushed against her aching clit as she tried to wiggle her pussy even closer to his face.

Hopper chuckled at his needy girl and licked a long stripe over her panties. Cherrie let out a pornographic moan as he sucked her panty covered clit into his mouth. “Please, sir, ‘m sorry for bein’ a bad girl, need you so bad. promise I’ll be good.” She whined out as her eyes began to water again.

“Since you asked so nicely f’me, whore.” He said as though he were pondering it. He stood up and easily towered over the small girl bent over the hood of his car as he ripped her fishnets big enough to wear he could push her panties to the side. He groaned as he watched her slick drip out of her pussy and down her thighs. “Hop, my fishnets..” she muttered breathlessly.

“I’ll buy you new fishnets, baby, whatever you want.” He muttered as leaned over and kissed her shoulder. He slapped her ass, once, twice, just to watch it jiggle against the impact before spreading her ass once again to get a better view of her pussy. “So wet..” he murmured to himself as he slapped her gently slapped her cunt, making her let out a soft groan.

Hopper aligned his massive cock to her entrance and pushed in forcefully before pausing for a moment to get the smaller girl used to his size. Her cunt squeezed around him in a vice grip, almost painfully as he hissed. Cherrie moaned as she felt him fill her small cunt to the brim, kissing her cervix. She could feel him throbbing inside of her, begging to move.

“Please, sir—” she started, and Jim wasted no time in pulling out just to slam back into her again, causing Cherrie to let out a gasp. Hopper began pounding into the red haired girl, one of his hands gripping her wrists that were still in handcuffs while the other harshly smacked her ass hard enough to leave a deep red hand print, making Cherries eyes water.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she moaned out loud ‘uhs’ each time he slammed back into her. As his pace began to gradually increase, the sweaty sound of skin slapping together could be heard throughout the parking lot and Jim felt like he was on cloud 9. Her cunt was so warm and tight. Almost as if she were a virgin.

Hop imagined her stomach swollen and her breasts enlarged and swollen with milk. How she’d become domesticated and obedient, much to his pleasure. He imagined her whimpers and moans as he’d fondle her nipples and squeezed the bundle of nerves just to watch the milk come out of them.

His hips slammed into hers harder and faster, taking Cherries breath away as her moans were uncontrollable and throat sore. Her mind was blank and all she could think about was the way he was filling her up. “Like the way I fuck you, hm? Stuffin’ this little pussy just the way you like.” The older man said as he threw his head back with a loud moan.

God, she loved how vocal he was. It made her pussy clench around him as she felt her orgasm approaching. “Sir—‘m gonna cum, gonna cum, oh my god—” she moaned out, her voice a higher pitch as she whined at the stimulation. Hopper sounded almost animalistic as he let out a what sounded close to a growl. “I told you you’re not gonna fuckin’ cum, you hear me?” He said through pants. Cherrie could tell he was being serious, but she just couldn’t hold it.

“please, ‘m sorry, sorry, I c—ca—can’t hold it.” She gasped out as her mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape as her orgasm slammed into her. Cherrie squirted all over Jim’s lower body, making him let out a groan. “Fuckkk..” he groaned out again. Cherrie thought Hopper would let up since she’d already came, but it seemed like the man had other plans.

Her pussy was so sensitive as he continued his brutal thrusts in and out with no remorse to her aching cunt. “please—stop, I can’t—“ she begged loudly as she tried to push her cuffed hands against his lower stomach, weakly trying to push him away from her but failing miserably. “No, you wanted to cum so you’re gonna fuckin cum for me as many times as I tell you to.” He said as he watched her ass jiggle each time his hips hit hers.

Hopper moved his hand that was around her wrist to her ass cheek, spreading it before spitting down into her puckered hole. He used his thumb to smear around his saliva before he slowly pushed it in, making Cherrie hiss out in pain. “This is what little girls who don’t listen get. They get their assholes used and violated.” He said with a chuckle as he began to fuck her tight ass with his thumb.

Broken moans left her throat as she felt herself go cross eyed, body shaking at the stimulation of her clit dragging against the hood of the car with each violent thrust delivered to her over-used cunt, paired with his thumb fucking into her ass made her orgasm quickly approach again.

“Sir, ‘m gonna cum, please let me cum, please, please, please!” She yelled out like it was a chant. Hopper bit down harshly on his lip, drawing blood before speaking. “Hold on, ‘m almost there, slut.” He huffed out as his thrusts became erratic and sloppy. “Y’want me to cum in this pussy? Make you nice n’ full? Make you all nice n swollen with my fuckin’ babies?” He moaned out.

“Yes, yes, yes, oh my god, need your cum, please cum in me. Need it so bad.” She moaned out, drunk on his cock that was drilling into her now more sloppy. “Yeah? Fuck , yes. Cum f’me right now, Cherrie. Cum f’me.” He repeated over and over till she squirted all over his cock for a second time, her body shaking and spasming with each dragging thrust he blew.

His hips stilled as his cock stuffed her full, and she could feel him getting soft inside of her before lazily pulling out. Hopper dropped down to his knees again and began licking up both of their release from her hole, savoring the taste of her juices that were now dripping down the starved man’s chin, making his beard sticky. “Oh my god.” Cherrie moaned as her legs shook violently at the harsh overstimulation of him fucking his cum back into her pussy with three of his large fingers.

Jim let up and slapped her cunt a few times for safe measures before he grabbed the keys to her handcuffs and took them off. Hopper put her panties back in place to make sure none of his valued cum can get out of her used cunt. He let her body fall limp against him as he picked her up bridal style as he opened the passenger door, gently putting her in.

“‘M takin’ you to my house, baby. Gon’ take good care of you, Cherrie.” He murmured gently as he kissed her temple. Cherrie nodded and blushed madly at his gentle, loving tone. A tone no one besides Wayne or Eddie used for her.

Maybe Jim Hopper wasn’t so bad after all.

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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